


A curious case of food poisoning

by manateehugger



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:11:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manateehugger/pseuds/manateehugger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is serving his bug butter laced maple mead at the emperor's wedding when one of the foreign delegates dies after drinking it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Qing Wu returned to her study one last time to locate her family’s passports. Not the ones which labeled them as citizens of ZhongQi. But new passports that assigned them different names and new identities. Her husband Wang Li had teased her for being overly paranoid in getting them. It seemed that they would be necessary after all. No telling how hard the GongAn, ZhongQi’s secret police would be looking for them. Qing feared the worst.

She stepped forward towards one particular bookshelf and quickly removed the books that hid the safe which was buried in the wall. A quick retinal scan and she was able to open the safe to retrieve the passports for her husband, herself and their five children. 

She did not allow herself to pause and consider what they were leaving behind. They had to leave tonight if they wanted to live. 

Qing Wu turned around and involuntarily gasped as she saw a man in the uniform of the GongAn standing behind her. He was between her and the exit to the room. The door was now closed. Had she closed it? Suddenly her mind drew a blank even as she realized the action had only been carried out seconds ago. She should have been paying attention. How had he-? 

One of the servants, of course. 

He was not a lowly GongAn officer either. She knew him to be Fuchou Tsetung, one of the Grand Inquisitors. Fuchou stared at her with black, unblinking bionic eyes.

“Comrade Qing, I see you are packing,” Fuchou noted calmly.

“Are you here to tell me my husband has been arrested,” she asked, her chest tightening. They’d been so close to escaping, she thought in despair.

But she had to remain strong. She would not let this man see her shake.

Fuchou was silent, unnatural in his stillness. She knew then that her husband was not so lucky as to have merely been arrested.

“Are you here to tell me you’ve butchered him already, without even the courtesy of a trial,” she demanded. She was bold in her pain.

“I am here to tell you that we have gathered all the evidence we needed to establish that his company, AiHao, was producing tainted baby formula products. We know that he knew the food was dangerous and didn’t recall the items out of fear of losing revenue. We know that children died a as a result of it,” Fuchou explained patiently.

“My husband was innocent, there were other men on that board who outvoted him and threatened his livelihood if he didn’t go along with their demands. He was the most junior member and could not gainsay the decisions of his superiors,” Qing Wu declared. 

“I have visited them tonight as well,” Fuchou stated calmly.

Despite the lack of a breeze inside, Qing Wu shivered.

There was nothing out of place on the man. His uniform looked as if he had just put it on after having received it from a cleaner. His boots were spotless. No one should look so good after murdering so many people, she thought. 

“How many homes will you have to visit tonight to assuage the collective conscience of your politician bosses? Will the blood of our scientists be spilled as well since they were the ones who claimed the levels of galladin were safe,” Qing Wu spat.

“The research scientists in your lab said low level impurities would be undetectable to the average quality assurance tests. This does not equate to safe. The head scientist is being dealt with. The others will be spared,” Fuchou explained.

“Will my children and I be spared from this purge or is our blood necessary to sate your appetite,” Qing Wu asked.

Fuchou pulled a flimsy from his pocket and moved forward, slowly. Despite this she flinched back, though all he did was pause at a table between them to set down the flimsy.   
“ZhongQi justice does not require the punishment of innocents,” Fuchou stated.

Qing Wu raised an eyebrow and moved forward to glance at the flimsy which had been set down. Was it some sort of pardon?

No, there was no red seal from the Chairman to indicate that this was an official decree.

She glanced at Fuchou.

“It’s your suicide note,” he said simply.

The air left her lungs.

“You monster,” she declared.

“There is evidence enough of your knowledge in this matter. Your husband was surprisingly quick to complain that it was not his board of superiors, but you who pushed him the hardest to not report what was happening. You aided in the deaths of thousands of children and so you must pay the price.”

“Don’t I deserve a trial at least,” she asked.

“You know that cannot happen, not when the ZhongQi People’s party allowed your husband’s company a loan a few years back and even gave the company’s president Jiao YouMing an innovator award recently.”

“So this is a tactic to save face rather than to establish justice,” Wang Qing said softly.

Fuchou was courteous enough not to lie, “yes.”

“And you support this,” Qing asked.

“I suspect you are stalling. Your death needn’t be violent. If you prefer I do have-“ Fuchou narrowly dodged the plasma beam.

Among the passports and other travel documents Qing had been careful to store a plasma arc. It was technically illegal for private citizens to own such things but since it was her father’s from his military service she had argued that it was a family heirloom. 

Not that it saved her. After dodging the beam Fuchou was quick to launch himself at her. The fight was brief and violent.

The Grand Inquisitor did not strangle her so much as he broke her neck. It was easy for him, the reinforced carbon fiber that interlaced his human muscle and bones made crushing her soft tissue as simple as crumpling a flimsy. 

Her death would not be quick this way, Fuchou recognized. But death by suffocation never was in reality. Vids made it look quick, as if a person could suffocate in seconds. In truth it would take anywhere from three to five minutes for her to fully lose consciousness and subsequently die from this. 

Instead he pulled out a knife from his belt. It was not a fancy ceremonial one. He used a simple field knife to slit her throat. It was only an issue of batting away her feeble attempts to defend herself in order to complete this.

He left the blade in her hand before standing up and exiting the room.

He was greeted almost instantly by a frightened older woman. The head housekeeper if he understood it.

She bowed nervously to him but if she had initially meant to ask him a question she seemed unable to do so now that they were face to face.

“I’m terribly sorry. Comrade Qing has killed herself after hearing about the deaths of those infants due to the impurities in the baby food produced by her husband’s company,” Fuchou explained for the benefit of the woman and likely any other ears who were hiding in the hall.

The woman nodded, but seemed to require more information. At least her feet remained planted whereas Fuchou had expected her to scamper off.

“I have already informed the childrens’ next of kin of this loss. Their aunt and uncle, Jin Wu will be here within the hour to console them,” Fuchou continued.

He did not mention that Jin Wu had been informed of the deaths of his sister and brother in law a little over half an hour ago. 

“I have also placed a call with emergency services to send over a medtech team to handle the body of Qing Wu,” Fuchou explained.

The housekeeper nodded again and continued to stare at the floor.

The task of dealing with the children and the body aside Fuchou did not think he had anything further to explain. It would be the job of the children’s uncle to decide which staff members would stay and which would be let go. The medtech team would technically declare Qing Wu dead and remove her body. They had also been informed already that the death was to be labeled a suicide. The news media would report that Qing Wu had taken her own life as an act of atonement. The company would be temporarily shut down long enough to remove all the impure baby food. If possible it would be restarted with a new, communist party approved board of directors who would not be stupid enough to make the same mistakes.

Fuchou nodded, then stepped around the housekeeper and let himself out of the building. He had more work to do. 

 

“What is that doing here” a calm female voice inquired

Fuchou looked up from his commscreen to see the face of his superior, the director of the GongAn, Lu Cha. She was staring at the bottle of wine on his desk. 

“It is to inspire me,” Fuchou said nodding to the bottle.

“I had thought you had given up that muse,” the director noted quietly.

“I understand it is not the ZhongQi way to be too forthright, but if you wish to say it, then by all means call me an alcoholic,” Fuchou said rubbing his face.

“You are so theatrical some days,” the director decided coming forward to pick the bottle up off his desk and examine it.

She was a petite woman but this had no impact on the sharpness of her wit or tongue when she chose to use it. 

“Like working with a primadonna,” Fuchou inquired.

He’d been called worse.

“Of a sort, at least you’re good enough to keep away from the mind altering drugs these days. So you’re keeping it there to punish yourself,” the director inquired as she set the unopened bottle down.

“I am masochistic in my enjoyment of denying myself,” Fuchou said.

The director studied him, “are you upset about this evening’s events?”

Fuchou shrugged, “I don’t mind the killing.”

In fact he enjoyed it. Though he knew that this enjoyment was inappropriate in the same way a pedophile might realize his fondness for children was inappropriate. 

I am not such a monster that I live outside the bounds of morality, he decided.

“I think the list of those executed in this case is short,” Fuchou admitted.

If the Party was truly going to punish those involved in the poisoning of children then they should punish all those involved. Not merely the ones who were the most convenient.

Cha raised an eyebrow, “is this empathy for the parents of the dead children or blood lust?”

Can it be both, he wondered. 

“It’s a desire for some semblance of honesty,” Fuchou suggested aloud.

“You have seemed perfectly happy to have your work remain in the shadows before this. What’s changed?”

“The fact that Jia MengJian was undoubtedly involved in this and yet he will not be facing repercussions merely because he is the Premier’s son in law,” Fuchou stated.

Fuchou had been the one to investigate this case. Despite the speed with which he’d been informed that he had enough evidence to carry out the executions Fuchou knew there was more to it than greedy businessmen. 

It was Lu Cha’s turn to rub her face.

“I knew I should have assigned – you know you cannot breathe a word of this to anyone,” Lu Cha stated.

Fuchou shrugged, “even if I went to the news media I doubt it would get past the censors.”

Lu Cha frowned, she saw this statement as an evasion to her actual question. She was not asking the feasibility of a move, she wanted to know what Fuchou’s next move would be.

“As a grand inquisitor in the GongAn, the highest position in the police forces I must request that you refrain from portraying this government in a negative light. You know damn well what would happen to you if you did so,” Lu Cha stated.

Fuchou waved a hand at this, “what would you do? Shoot me? Come now, we know damn well the rioting that would occur if there was so much as an inkling of favoritism in the party leadership. People would start to realize that our communist utopia was not so utopian.”

Lu Cha stared at him. Fuchou wondered silently if he ever would be dragged out and shot for speaking his mind so freely. It was not a typical characteristic of a citizen of ZhongQi. It was considered rude if not dangerous. But then he was dangerous too. 

Lu Cha’s face suddenly softened, “how is your daughter?”

Damn. That was a low blow. But then perhaps Cha felt she had no choice but to point out Fuchou’s weaknesses to keep him in line. One might even argue she was trying to protect him from his own stupidity.

“I get commcalls from the school every now and again. Her patriotic fervor is a bit too much for them to handle at times,” he acknowledged. 

Cha smiled at this, “you’ve been rather busy lately. Perhaps you should take some time off and spend it with your child.”

We both know you want me to back off so someone else can cover up the roles of any well connected party members who may be involved in this incident, Fuchou thought. But they both knew what she meant. No need to accuse her out loud.

Fuchou disliked her willingness to aid in this arbitrary salvation afforded to high party members. But then he knew well enough that the communist ideals upon which this government was founded were not necessarily practiced. He did not view the ZhongQi communist party with rose colored glasses. 

But you still serve them, a voice pointed out. 

So I do.

“Yes, perhaps she and I both need a break,” Fuchou acquiesced.

He did not know whether it was fatigue or cowardice which drove him to fold. But he chose not to argue as his boss shut him out.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the tail end of the emperor’s wedding day, the emperor and his new wife Empress Laisa Vorbarra had slipped off already. Mark hardly blamed them, considering all of the intense public scrutiny they’d been under for the past year made Mark grateful that he had never been required to attend any events as an representative for the emperor the way Miles and Ivan had.

He glanced over again at Kareen who looked tired but happy. They’d done well today all things considered. They’d also kept Dr Borgos away from many of the passersby which did wonders for getting people to return for seconds and even thirds of their free samples. 

Kareen had even wrangled an upcoming meeting out of the third son of Lord Vorjaris. That vor scion owned a mid-sized candy production company in the Vorjaris district.

It would definitely help to have production of the bug butter occur outside of Vorkosigan house. Mark knew his and Enrique’s welcome was being worn thin by the presence of the bugs. Certainly Ekaterin’s makeover had helped, but he was sure the servants and Miles would breathe a sigh of relief when the bugs were finally fully removed from the house.

“I beg your pardon sir, what is this,” a bespectacled middle aged Asian woman inquired. 

She coughed a dry sounding cough and removed her glasses to brush water from her eyes. Had she been crying during the ceremony? Strange, but the petite woman didn’t strike Mark as the sentimental type and judging by her appearance and her serious looking bodyguards she wasn’t Barrayaran. So she couldn’t have been crying tears of relief at the thought of the emperor finally settling down and having kids. Mark would have understood those tears. Anything that kept him far away from the imperial throne and the insanity that went with it was a wonderful thing.

“A Vorkosigan district specialty,” Mark declared reaching for the maple mead ambrosia. 

It wasn’t quite a lie, Mark reasoned.

He took in the dress of the woman. She wore a black Chinese style suit with a golden dragon that wrapped around her body. The base of the dragon’s tail started at the bottom of the jacket and circled her waist before moving out to the right wrist. The teeth, open and bared ended at the right sleeve. 

“Do you have any water,” she inquired.

But then you won’t try the maple mead, Mark thought in annoyance. He knew she was a foreign delegate. Wouldn’t it be a sure win if he could get this bug butter not only on the store shelves in Barrayar but on other planets as well? This woman might get addicted to it here and bring it back with her, opening up a new market, Mark thought. It was a long shot, but what was the harm?

“I have Vorkosigan district’s finest maple mead, this should work even better,” Mark declared confidently offering her a cup.

She took it dubiously. 

Mark wasn’t sure if he should offer some to the guards as well. The more people to try the bug butter the better, he thought. It would definitely boost his profit margin, make it faster to open up more facilities and give him more capital with which to start his next project. It would also give him more spending money to use with Kareen.

He had caught her eyeing a vorlady’s dress longingly earlier. He envisioned himself buying her something of a similar make and basking in her delighted glow. Then he considered all the things that could go wrong with shopping for a woman.

The Asian woman emitted a hacking noise which brought Mark back to the present. The woman who had just tried the Vorkosigan district bug butter laced maple mead was doubled over, her face red now as she wheezed. Her alarmed security agents stood nearby, one was speaking rapidly into a wristcomm.

“Is everything ok,” Kareen asked, coming over towards Mark and looking at the woman worriedly.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Mark offered in a tone that lacked reassurance.

He could already see it in the newscast “Foreign delegate chokes to death on Vorkosigan district’s offering at the Emperor’s wedding reception”. 

Miles would kill him.

Quickly Mark grabbed a bottle of water from a box in their stand and hurried over to offer it to her.

Why the hell weren’t the guards doing the Heimlich maneuver or something, Mark wondered.

“Oh look it turns out – “ Mark began.

The woman slumped forward, into the arms of one of her bodyguards. Her glasses fell to the ground. Men that Mark was sure were ImpSec agents who were not in uniform came running over. 

The man who’d caught the foreign woman already had her on her back. He removed something from a pouch he carried. It was a syringe, Mark realized as the man popped the cap off and drove the syringe into the delegate’s leg. 

The woman convulsed once, her eyes shot open briefly and she made eye contact with Mark before she slumped back over.

The ImpSec agents and the woman’s bodyguards began arguing in barely restrained tones.

It seemed a medivac van couldn’t be brought in to take the foreign delegate, Aimin Chan out. She was to be carried to the van. But a smaller ATV was brought.

The bodyguards were game, they lifted the now unconscious delegate unto the atv and raced off. 

“Mark, dammnit, what the hell happened,” a voice demanded behind him.

Mark turned to look at a horrified and out of breath Miles.

“I don’t know,” Mark admitted in a small voice.


	3. Chapter 3

“Sire, it’s not as if Mark meant to kill the foreign delegate from ZhongQi,” Miles attempted to explain.

“I didn’t kill her! Nor is there proof that the bug butter killed her! She was coughing even before I gave her anything,” Mark defended.

Gregor did not glare at either of them. That would have been better than the extremely bland look on his face. God he must be furious. Not that Mark could blame the guy what with his long awaited honeymoon being pushed back even further. 

Still, Gregor wasn’t the only one being punished. After news that the delegate had collapsed after eating at the Vorkosigan table no one had come near them. Martya and Kareen had gone to chase down Vorjaris to make sure he wouldn’t back out of their meeting next week. Prices for the butter bug shares were likely plummeting and with it the chance for Kareen to come back to Beta Colony with him next year.

Gregor took a deep breath in and then slowly let it out, as if he were summoning the strength to not strangle Mark. He turned to the fourth and fifth men in the room, General Allegre and Major Dzersky who had been in charge of security during the emperor’s reception. 

“Is it possible an assassin could have placed something in the Vorkosigan maple mead in order to kill Aimin Chan?”

“My subordinates and I have looked over the vid footage from several of the cams in the area, but nothing obvious sticks out. Not that it would if the assassin was any good. It would only take a flick of the wrist to drop something in. The trick would be to time it correctly so that it got into the cup of the person the assassin wanted to poison,” Major Dzersky noted.

“There are a number of people milling near the Vorkosigan booth at any one time. That being said a number of them are foreign nationals and I don’t know how wise it would be to round them up and fast penta them to see what they know,” Allegre explained.

“That could easily cause a bigger galactic incident,” Gregor agreed somberly.

“Can’t you just test the delegate’s body for poisons? Surely that would be the fastest way,” Mark insisted.

If they found that the woman had been given a slow acting poison so much the better, that would definitely prove she’d been poisoned long before she’d had any of the maple mead laced with bug butter. His company would be cleared and he could go make money, Mark thought.

“That’s a negative. After the delegate was declared dead her chief security officer Lieutenant Colonel Shumei Gao, chose to flash freeze the body and has refused to allow a Barrayaran forensic team in to test the body. The Zhongqi are calling on their central government to send someone to investigate,” Allegre stated.

“I suppose we could get the bug butter and the bugs themselves tested by our biochemist Dr Canaba for any clues of foul play,” Miles noted.

“Test the bugs,” Mark inquired.

“We’d probably have to grind them up to get a good look at their stomach contents,” Dzersky theorized.

“What?! Do you know what Enrique would do if you offed some of his bugs,” Mark demanded. Was he going to be compensated for the loss of that investment? Judging by Gregor's face Mark decided it wasn't the time to ask that question.

“Mm, still I’d prefer it if We discovered the source of any foul play and phrased it as We needed to before the Zhongqi arrive. Lest they come to their own conclusions,” Gregor stated.

“Lest they concluded that we did poison the delegate,” Miles interpreted.

“That would be catastrophic for our chances of upgrading our position in the Federation Security Council,” Gregor acknowledged.

Mark raised an eyebrow and glanced at Miles.

Miles explained, “Barrayar has been seeking to enter into the United Galactic Federation’s security council as a senior member for the past few years. There have been some troubles with getting us upgraded, not merely because of the Cetagandans who are already senior members and who keep trying to get us kicked out entirely. The problem is we don’t have enough fellow governments to back our petition. While the Hegen hub planets like Vervain, Aslund and Pol are willing to give us the go ahead there are a number of planets that would rather see us fail.”

“So we’re courting Zhongqi to help us improve our chances? Aren’t they communist? Why would they help,” Mark inquired. 

“They are a major importer of the mineral meridium which is being mined on Sergyar. It’s useful in producing higher grade neckline rods for jumpships as well as other manufacturing equipment. We’re trying to cultivate them so they will in turn cultivate another planet we’re interested in, their language neighbor BaoHua. BaoHua sits between Zhongqi and the Centagandan empire. It was Zhongqi that came to BaoHau’s rescue when the Cetagandan’s made an attempt to invade about a hundred years back. Between the shared history and culture BaoHua is always careful to take the lead of the communist party leadership on Zhongqi, even though BaoHua is technically a republic,” Gregor explained.

“So winning over Zhongqi means winning over BaoHua which means a better chance of getting a senior seat with the United Galactic Security Council,” Mark summarized, just to show he was paying attention.

“Right, and all the information and political connections that go along with being a senior member of that council,” Miles agreed.

Right, so the death of this delegate had not only thrown a wrench in Mark’s company but also in the Barrayaran government's. 

“So… how long before we get a visit from Zhongqi’s investigator,” Mark asked.


	4. Chapter 4

Fuchou rose from his bed when he noticed the blinking light on his commconsole. They were a week out from their visit to Beta Colony. Fuchou had decided the revisit his old medical school, and was thinking that it might be good for his little one if she also looked into education off ZhongQi. He worried that the educational climate was becoming too stifled with ridiculous party rhetoric.

He flipped on the monitor to allow the tightbeam message to come up. In it his boss, Lu Cha appeared.

Lu Cha made no comment about the state of Fuchou’s undress. But then since the vid was pre-recorded and had been made a week or more ago there was no reason she would.

“Comrade Fuchou, it seems that your detective skills will be needed again. Our delegate to Barrayar for the Emperor’s wedding has recently died under unusual circumstances. The Barrayarans claim she must have had an accidental allergic reaction to a food she’d eaten, something called ‘bug butter’. Her security staff thinks she was poisoned. Her official cause of death has been listed as heart attack.”

Because of course nobody knew anything and no one wanted to admit anything, Fuchou surmised.

“Barrayar,” Fuchou mulled over the complications.

Fuchou was traveling along in a ZhongQi military ship. It was partly a perk of power and partly good timing. No need to have him switch ships then. 

Lu Cha continued to speak, but she did not mince words, “The autopsy report is being beamed to you along with any other relevant information we’ve been given. You are to ascertain the true cause of death and act accordingly if foul play is observed.”

She was giving him permission to kill. 

Right, I’ll keep that in mind. But it’s not so easy when the government refuses to turn a blind eye to it, Fuchou noted wryly.

Still, before his work in the GongAn he was part of ShaDui, a branch of the military involved in the clandestine elimination of enemies outside of ZhongQi. Fuchou had been exceedingly good. Though he admitted that he was older now, and slower. 

Not to mention he still had his child with him. Fuchou didn’t know whether it would be safer to leave her in orbit with the ship or to bring her down planetside with him.

He considered these options as he pulled up the autopsy report.

 

It was several hours later that XiaFeng came up to his office. The autopsy images of AiMin Chan were plastered on the wall, close-ups of her internal organs were of special interest to him.

XiaFeng knocked on the door, waited several moments and then let herself in. Fuchou didn’t understand her appreciation for the colors black and red but her entire wardrobe for last six months had consisted of clothing in only those two colors. That and her junior Red guard uniform were the only things she wore.

“Are those lungs filled with mucus,” she asked, not bothering to greet him. She was entranced by the image of the far right.

He was always a little worried about XiaFeng's fascination with his work. 

“Is it an allergic reaction,” she asked.

Fuchou followed her gaze, “original reports suggest as much. Ambassador Chan was present at a midsummer festival held by the Barrayaran Imperium. She apparently had some trouble breathing, initially attributed to the pollen in the area. However she then collapsed and lost consciousness before being transported to a hospital.”

“But how long did that take? How do they know it wasn’t poison? I remember reading that some poisons can induce a heart attack by inducing rapid palpitations. Did they check troponin levels,” the small girl asked rapid fire. 

Fuchou raised an eyebrow at her.

“You remember this year I was in the nurse’s apprenticeship program. We got to learn all about emergency care,” Xiafeng pointed out.

“I remember the letter of concern I got about your frequent inquiries.”

“Just because I wanted to know more about how someone could be killed with an overdose of potassium does not mean I was actually going to murder anybody. I was just being prepared in case I needed to solve a murder with no obvious cause,” she declared defensively.

“Because the first person the authorities would turn to is an eleven year old.”

"Well... maybe not the first. But I should be learning about these things. How else am I going to be a police officer like you," she asked.

"I'd break your legs before I let you be a police officer like me," Fuchou said turning back to the images.

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes at him. It was that preteen sass coming out again.

“And anyway back to your current pictures, this seems very lazy of the hospital and the guards. Why didn’t they try a cryo-revivial before cutting her open?”

“They were probably worried she was infected with something. Comrade AiMin’s physical showed her to be in decent shape. No one would have expected her to have a heart attack or stroke, nothing natural. Her head of security probably assumed she’d been hit by a virus or toxin and it was better to investigate that then to try and revive her without knowing what they were up against and whether more people would die in the process.”

“But if the head of security knew she probably didn’t have a heart attack then why is that her supposed cause of death?”

“Troponin tests take time, the chief of security probably isn’t in the habit of giving the Barrayarans more information than they absolutely need. It was also the preliminary statement, the cause of death might be revised by the time I arrive.”

“So we are going to be investigating a murder.”

“No,” Fuchou clarified, “I will be investigating a murder. If you are good I will let you go visit the museums or local attractions with several security personnel. If you don’t behave you can sit up here on the ship and spend quality time with Sergeant Zhou.”

Xiafeng snorted, “I think that would be a worse punishment for comrade Zhou than for me. Which reminds me of something else, do you know what I found in the kitchen supply rooms?”

Fuchou raised an eyebrow.

“Several containers of red food coloring and lemon jell-o, that’s what.”

“And?”

“Well you must realize that the kitchen staff has been setting out lemon and cherry jell-o for the last 2 weeks. But there’s no cherry jell-o to be found, there aren’t even any containers to be found in the waste bins.”

“Are you implying that our kitchen staff has just been dyeing some of the lemon jell-o red and claiming it’s cherry?”

“That is exactly what I am saying,” Xiafeng stated.

Fuchou sighed, “well I guess I’ll have to see that they’re charged with crimes against humanity.”

“This is serious. If they’ve been messing about with the jell-o perhaps this ship isn’t as well equipped as they would like us to believe. What if we’re attacked by… oh I don’t know the Cetagandans.”

“Well if that happened our first reaction would probably not be to serve them jell-o. So I don’t think you need to worry.”

Xiafeng fixed him with a stern look, “fine, maybe that’s not very important, but I’m obviously very good at noticing unusual things and piecing them together. I bet I could help with your assignment. The Barrayarans would never suspect me because I'm a girl,” XiaFeng insisted.

“Go get some breakfast, we can discuss this later.”

She frowned, “whenever you say that the answer is always ‘no’.”

“Good,” Fuchou stated cheerfully, “then I guess we don’t need to continue talking about this.”

“Just remember, when you’re old and frail I’m going to be the one to pick your nursing home.”

He smiled, “something with a sun room and a view of the sea would be nice.”

The small girl grumbled things as she left. Undoubtedly she was thinking up new reasons as to why she should be allowed to aid in his investigation. Fuchou turned back to a report of ambassador Chan’s stomach contents at the time of the initial autopsy. He was thoroughly intrigued by something called “bug butter” which did not have any known ingredients as far as the internet library was concerned. The product so far was only produced on Barrayar by the company MPVK. So that's where I'll start, he decided.


	5. Chapter 5

They landed on Barrayar a week and a day after Fuchou received the initial autopsy report. He, XiaFeng, and a contingent of the ship’s crew were received by the ZhongQi embassy’s local staff at the shuttleport and were then driven to the actual embassy.

Xiafeng was sent off to unpack upstairs. Two of the ships doctors were sent to the embassy’s cold room where AiMin Chan’s body was currently being housed. They had tests to run.

Fuchou sat down with Delegate Chan’s second in command turned Ambassador, Cho Kong, who was a slight woman with short hair in her mid-thirties. She had a soft, forgiving face. The chief security officer Lieutenant Colonel Wen Gao was also present. He kept his hair trimmed short and looked every part the Party hardliner. Gao seemed the sort who was eager to die for the ideals of the Party. Fuchou made a mental note to never leave Gao alone in the same room as his daughter, XiaFeng. 

Kong handed Fuchou some flimsies and then pulled up a few more images on a vid console which she projected on the far wall.

“Comrade Fuchou, I recognize that the information sent to you is now somewhat..outdated,” Cho Kong pursed her lips and looked physically pained by this. Nonetheless she bravely continued, “upon closer investigation of Delegate AiMin Chan’s body we found a good deal of inflammation in the neck and no troponin in the blood. We believe this rules out the initial diagnosis of heart attack.”

Fuchou nodded, he’d expected as much.

“Based on the lack of further…casualties our current theory is that she suffered a severe allergic reaction,” Kong continued, turning to Gao as she spoke. They were clearly a team in this.

“If it had been a chemical or biological gas attack more people would have died,” Gao agreed firmly.

“If you choose to continue to look into the matter that is of course your prerogative Comrade, though I am not sure there is much to investigate,” Kong noted with another grimace. Hers was the face of a subordinate who was clearly embarrassed at having wasted her superior’s time.

“What is the presumed cause of her anaphylactic shock,” Fuchou inquired. He already had a guess.

“Of the food’s that Delegate Chan ingested on the day of her death the most likely culprit was something called “bug butter” a recent creation by a local vor lord. It’s not licensed to be sold off planet and appears to be entirely unregulated as of yet,” Kong explained.

“Is this a local delicacy then? Had she only come into contact with it during the festival or were there previous times in which she ingested this butter,” Fuchou asked.

It was Gao’s turn to frown, “during the Midsummer festival in the capital each district sets up booths which hand out foods specific to their district. Ambassador Chan was forced to try some against her better judgement by a most,” at this point Gao inhaled sharply to show disapproval, “pushy man, the vor lord who produces the bug butter in fact.”

Fuchou nodded, “If nothing else I would certainly wish to speak with him on this matter.”

The two looked at each other and frowned, “his name is Mark Pierre Vorkosigan and he is indeed related to that Vorkosigan. He also has close connections with the emperor. He has declined any and all requests to speak on the matter. Nor will he allow us to test his bugs or his product.”

Fuchou considered this. The ZhongQi currently had possession of the delegate’s body. Which was undoubtedly undergoing toxicological testing as they sat here talking. Fuchou had not only brought patholgoists with him he’d brought technology for these tests. It meant they wouldn’t have to rely on the Barrayarans for aid. At least in reference to the delegate’s autopsy. But that was only half of the puzzle. Fuchou needed to know more about this bug butter. 

“We could file an injunction to demand information through the galactic courts but that could take years, and there’s no guarantee we would win” Fuchou noted.

“Correct, and any more forcible methods could prove quite disastrous considering his influence and how well he is guarded,” Gao admitted distastefully.

“Right,” Fuchou agreed, suddenly getting up and walking to the door. He yanked it open and Xiafeng stumbled inside.

She smiled up at him helpfully but offered no explanation.

“So, we have a businessman we can’t physically force out of his shell. What’s our other alternative,” Fuchou asked her.

“Point out that he will never be able to sell his product on ZhongQi if he doesn’t allow an inspection,” XiaFeng suggested enthusiastically.

“Hmm, interesting, but we want to hit him a little closer to home. Though you are right, businessmen are always interested in increasing their profit. Emphasizing the public relations disaster of having an otherwise healthy woman die from eating his product and how that will affect sales ought to solicit a more cooperative response,” Fuchou noted.

A plan was already forming in his mind.

 

Fuchou looked over the scant amount of information on Lord Mark Pierre Vorkosigan. ZhongQi reports noted that Lord Mark had only shown up on the Vorkosigan’s doorstep a few years ago. There were rumors that he had been part of some Komarran plot to overthrow the current regime. There was little evidence for or against this. Not that the ZhongQi government had ever expended much energy to verify these claims. It was the successful coups that upended longstanding contracts on meridian. No one but the losers cared about the failed coups. 

There was no information on Lord Mark's early life. The report did note that Lord Mark was currently enrolled in business school and that he was also wanted by the Escobaran police in connection with harboring a fugitive. That fugitive was apparently his chief scientist, Dr Enrique Borgos who owed quite a bit of money to a number of people back on Escobar. So the man has no problem with breaking the law if he thinks he can gain something from it, Fuchou decided. Fuchou had met enough people such as that who felt their high connections entitled them to more than the rest of humanity. I’ve killed a number of them too, he thought coldly.

Fuchou sat thinking on this a little longer before dialing in the number for MPVK enterprises. He got a voice recording informing him that the business was now currently closed. If the caller was still interested in placing a pre-order for butter bugs there was a different number to call. Unfortunately butter bugs could not be sold at this time due to 'technical difficulties' but production was hoped to be back up soon. If the problem was that the caller no longer wanted his butter bugs well unfortunately MPVK could not offer refunds and the caller should have a nice day.

Fuchou tried the number to pre-order more butter bugs and ended up with a young woman with bright blonde hair.

“Good evening this is Martya Koudelka I understand you are interested in our butter bugs,” She asked sweetly.

“I was actually calling about a butter bug problem. Two weeks ago delegate AiMin Chan of the –“

Before he could finish she rolled her eyes and moved to disconnect the call.

“Mark Pierre Vorkosigan enterprises-“ she began

“Can a district rescind licensing,” Fuchou cut in.

“I told him the company’s name was too long,” Martya muttered. Then she sighed and demanded, “what do you mean?”

“The ZhongQi delegate died shortly after sampling some bug butter. Our current hypothesis is that it was due to anaphylactic shock. What does it say about your employer if he adamantly refuses to allow us to test this hypothesis?”

“It says he isn’t interested in dealing with crazed ZhongQi citizens. We were going to let one of your people in to look at the bugs a week ago but he was completely insane on the vidlink. We weren’t going to let him anywhere near us much less the butter bugs,” Martya snapped.

That was interesting. That was also unreported by either Gao or Kong. 

“Who called last,” Fuchou inquired. He could envision a panicked Gao calling to threaten the good employees of MPVK. People do stupid things when they’re scared, Fuchou decided.

“Shouldn’t you know,” Martya asked a tad incredulously.

“I got off a jump ship only a few hours ago. Humor me.”

She frowned slightly as she looked him over and shrugged, “I don’t know I didn’t take the call.”

“Ms. Koudelka, I only came to Barraryar to see about this death. I want this case to be an accident because it means I get to leave sooner and I do less paperwork. Just let me bring my crew and we’ll run some tests, hopefully the delegate simply had an allergic reaction. Then your boss can put a safety sticker on the bug butter and we can all go home,” Fuchou explained.

Of course it wouldn’t actually be that easy.

Martya snorted, “you can just go home right now. We are not allowing any visitors.”

“If Lord Mark refuses to help in my investigation then it might leak that the bug butter isn’t safe and Lord Mark knows this which is why he won’t help. If it killed one person who is to say it didn’t hurt others? Who is to say those people couldn’t file lawsuits claiming failing kidneys, bad backs or a number of other ailments? From my understanding this product was only recently created and no actual short or long term studies about its safety have been done. It might need to be pulled entirely from commercial use for good,” Fuchou admitted with a hint of sympathy in his voice.

Her eyes narrowed. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” she informed him sturdily.

“It’s not important. If you can cause enough panic in the general public, they won’t care who he is either. Think about the mass panic that will occur in Hassadar when people find out he has been producing dangerous biological weapons,” Fuchou suggested. 

“The butter bugs are not biological weapons and any insinuation to the contrary is called libel and can lead to a lawsuit,” Martya declared.

Fuchou shrugged,” I apologize for not knowing more about your boss, Lord Mark. Do the people of the district trust him? Do you think he would have to worry about them destroying his facility if they heard it was full of dangerous weapons? I heard he wasn’t so highly regarded…”

Fuchou had not heard this, but he had deduced the information based on his own vague unease at Mark Vorkosigan’s biography and the young woman’s worried responses.

Martya glared but she seemed uncertain as to how to respond.

“If the product line is safe then what’s the worst that comes from indulging me? My number is listed as the embassy number, when he is ready he can call me back and we can set up a time and place of his choosing.”

Fuchou cut the link and went downstairs to make himself some tea.


	6. Chapter 6

Mark was shocked, angered and just a tad frightened when he heard about how Martya had been harassed by the newest psychopath from ZhongQi. Miles was beyond furious.  
Mark, Martya and Kareen watched Miles pace back and forth in the library in a state somewhere between fascination and concern.

“So what do you think we should do,” Mark asked.

“Well we shouldn't cave in to that twit just because he threatened our business. Miles can't you just... kick him off planet,” Martya demanded.

“I could. Doesn't mean that would stop any of his idiotic rumors from being spread. Knowing people's fears about mutation I think he could have a devastating impact,” Miles responded tersely.

“Which would ruin my business just as it was getting off the ground,” Mark said slouching further in his chair. Damn, but couldn't he do one thing right without something catastrophic happening, Mark thought to himself.

Even without this Zhongqi ass here, stirring the pot, people were already unwilling to discuss the bug butter anymore. Mark supposed he could dispose of the butter bugs and leave this whole debacle behind him. But where did that leave Enrique?

Hell where did that leave Mark's finances?

“I mean, he could be right. Maybe there is something wrong with the bugs,” Kareen put in quietly.

Mark winced at this, “you know Enrique's science is sound.”

Mark hadn't meant to make his tone so accusatory. But it came out that way. It stung that she didn't believe in him.

Kareen looked unhappy about this but continued, “Enrique's science is perfectly fine in theory, but maybe there was something in the butter the bugs produce that causes allergic reactions in certain people. Dr Canaba combed the butter for any poisons but nothing obvious was found. So if there was nothing added to the bug butter to kill that poor woman then it must be the bug butter itself. I think we have a duty to make sure our product is safe.”

“It was safe enough when Mark snuck it into our food at my last party,” Miles muttered.

“So you think we should work together with this Zhongqi guy,” Mark asked her.

Kareen hesitated a moment before nodding.

“Kareen, I don't have a problem with solving crimes, hell it's my job. But this guy isn't just here to put a stamp on the bug butter saying it may cause allergies. Nor do I approve of his tactics,” Miles explained.

Martya rolled her eyes, “like you wouldn't use bribery, intimidation and black mail to get what you want?”

“Well, only if it meant helping the Imperium,” Miles insisted.

“Besides, I took the liberty of having information on Fuchou Tsetung messaged to me after you told me about the commcall,” Miles said.

“I told you about that less than half an hour ago,” Martya said.

“And ImpSec works fast when you have an Auditor's chain,” Miles said, looking only a little smug.

“So what should we know about him,” Mark asked. Killer hadn't quite woken up yet to deal with this. Gorge was, and had been pushing to the surface for quite some time but for the moment Mark was in just enough control of himself to not let Gorge take over.

“Of all things he has a medical degree in pediatric psychiatry from St. Barnabus on Beta Colony,” Miles began.

“I would not let that man around children,” Martya interrupted.

“After that he returned to Zhongqi to complete his mandatory military service and ended up staying in the military for ten years. While his official listing is that he was a clerical assistant in the foreign services branch ImpSec believes he was part of ShaDui, Zhongqi's kill team for troublemakers outside of Zhongqi. He retired from that five years ago to take up work as a Grand Inquisitor. It seems that despite the number of cases he seems to have closed there have not been many trials. Though there are a number of suicides and disappearances as a result of them.”

“So he kills his suspects,” Martya asked.

“Someone seems to mete out punishment to them anyway. Who knows if he does it himself or if he has an underling these days,” Miles mused.

“How does he get away with that,” Kareen demanded.

Miles shrugged, “undoubtedly these murders are government sanctioned. It's one reason that despite Zhongqi's low violent crime rate and positive relations with its nearest neighbors it's still rated low on the Betan Peace Index.”

“So should we plan to meet this guy,” Mark asked.

“We're going to have to. But we should do it on our terms,” Miles declared.

“How's that,” Mark asked cautiously.

“I've already spoken to Gregor about it,” Miles said with only slightly suppressed glee.


	7. Chapter 7

Fuchou was going through the masochistic ritual of shaving as his daughter sat on the edge of the tub and watched him. In the privacy of the lavatory he wore only an undershirt and pants. The carbonite bands which protruded from his arms and hands were fully visible. He knew the sight of these bands and the scar tissue of his skin underneath unsettled most people, but his daughter was unfazed. 

Despite the early hour she seemed fully awake. But then Xiafeng had heard the news that Fuchou had been invited to speak on the matter of the butter bugs and AiMin Chan with both the emperor and the Vorkosigans. 

“You should be really nice to them when you get there so you can lull them into a false sense of security. Maybe tell them that story about how you got chased by a skunk,” Xiafeng instructed seriously.

Fuchou nearly sliced his throat open when he barked a laugh at her earnest suggestion.

“I thought we agreed that it was high treason to discuss that particular event,” Fuchou noted with amusement. 

“But Comrade Liu says that to handle a proper interrogation you're supposed to build a rapport with your prisoners so they won't lie to you. Even if you have fast penta you still have to be careful not to agitate them too much,” Xiafeng stated.

Fuchou wrinkled a brow, “isn't Comrade Liu your gym teacher?”

What the hell was the man doing teaching little kids about appropriate interrogation techniques? 

Xiafeng shrugged, “everyone needs to be vigilant and ready to fight evil in order to protect our society.”

The clunky words sounded like something she'd heard in school. That or from one of her visits to her mother and step-father's home. Fuchou's ex-wife and her new husband seemed to suffer from a certain delusional patriotism not unknown to the upper echelons of Zhongqi society. They still believed that even private dissenters ought to be executed. 

He shook his head, “you leave that to me. You should be outside playing.”

“If I'm outside playing all the time how am I going to be ready to take on your job when you retire,” Xiafeng asked.

“There are a variety of jobs that don't involve,” Fuchou stopped himself from saying murdering people, “getting into dangerous situations. Xiafeng, the goal of every parent is to provide a better life for their child. How can I say I've done that if you take on the exact same job I have? At least start looking at other jobs,” Fuchou half pleaded.

Xiafeng sighed, “I mean maybe I could look at some of the schools here... do you think a deep cover spy on Barrayar would be useful?”

A knock at the door interrupted Fuchou's response.

“Comrade, the car has been brought around. We are waiting upon your instructions as to when to leave.”

“Right, ten minutes should do it. Please check on Drs Hyung and Xi to see how soon they'll be ready,” Fuchou called out.

He checked his chrono, they'd have ample time even in crazed Barrayaran traffic.

Fuchou finished his shave and moved out into the bedroom to pull on the rest of his uniform.

Xiafeng followed him.

“I told Sergeant Zhou to take you to the Imperial Natural History Museum today. You'll be going with a few men. I know I don't require a detail when we're back home, but...I would feel better if you weren't alone. Please be nice to them. I'm not sure when I'll be back but chef Du has promised to make custard tarts for tonight and I know they're your favorite,” Fuchou instructed as he kissed her on the forehead and headed for the door.

“Actually I don't really think I should be eating dessert anymore,” Xiafeng said.

Fuchou paused and exhaled a breath slowly, the pre-teen and teenage years were the time when a young woman was most at risk for an eating disorder. Was this a body image issue?

“Comrade Liu says that fats and sugar are two weapons the imperialist bastards use to destroy the health of the Zhongqi people. I need to be healthy and fighting fit,” Xiafeng continued.

“Oh, of course.”

Fuchou did not need to have to worry about a life long eating disorder. Provided he found and strangled Comrade Liu when they got back to Zhongqi.

“Well I'll eat the custard tarts and you can have a bag of carrots,” Fuchou said heading towards the waiting ground car.


	8. Chapter 8

Upon the arrival of the Zhongqi at the Residence they were allowed to disembark the vehicle, but before they could enter the main building they were scanned for weapons. Upon waving the wand over Fuchou's arms the palace guard's wand made a shrill beeping noise. One overzealous guard seemed ready to shoot Fuchou right then and there.

“Sir, please remove the weapons from your coat.”

Fuchou sighed and removed the gloves which covered the carbonite entwined in scars on his hands. He rolled up his sleeves to show that he was not carrying a weapon, that it was the carbonite which was setting off the wands.

“Gentlemen, I'm afraid it's impossible to disarm him,” Dr Hyung murmured quietly. She managed to keep from smiling too broadly at her own joke.

Colonel Gao quietly spoke into a recorder after this comment. Fuchou suspected he was noting the ostensibly disrespectful comment that Hyung had just made. He would assuredly report this unpatriotic activity to his higher up. In this case that would be Fuchou, who would rip up the report. 

Fuchou had a soft spot for Hyung. But more importantly, he thought the idea of worshiping a party or system of government without leaving room for criticisms or satire was dangerous. Blind obedience isn't loyalty, he thought as the guards seemed to confer with a superior before finally allowing them to enter the Residence.

They were lead into a parlor which already contained several men. Two of them were short and Fuchou immediately recognized the thin one as Lord Miles Vorkosigan and the chubbier one as Lord Mark Vorkosigan. He also immediately took in their physical states. 

Lord Vorkosigan had been injured by soltoxin in utero according to a report, but Fuchou saw that his bones had been replaced with synthetics. The large gash across his chest was a clear indication that at one point he'd been injured. Fuchou could see that new organs had been placed in his body. So you've seen the inside of a cryo-chamber, haven't you? Interesting. 

Lord Mark's body also showed synthetic bones. Yet there was no indication that Lord Mark had been exposed to soltoxin. No indication that he needed the synthetic bones. Unless of course he had been set up to replace his elder brother. Some credence was given to the clone plot, Fuchou decided. That or Lord Mark's parents suffered from some mental illness, Munchausen by proxy for instance which would cause them to torture their son with unnecessary medical surgeries. A final hypothesis was that Lord Mark had chosen to medically alter himself as some manifestation of body dysmorphia. 

Fuchou could not tell which was true, he could however see the vast amount of superficial scar tissue the young man had. An indication of prior abuse based on the patterns on Lord Mark's body. Stranger and stranger, Fuchou thought.

Seated next to them was a tall, thin man who looked just a tad bishonen to Fuchou's eyes. The emperor looked upon Fuchou with barely concealed displeasure. Undoubtedly he was offended by Fuchou's heavy handedness. This was fine. Fuchou was offended that he'd had to come all the way to Barrayar. Misery loves company, Fuchou thought with some amusement.

Beside the emperor were two more men, one Fuchou recognized as General Guy Allegre, the other was Major Dzersky based on the reports. Fuchou only wished they'd left the militart men and had brought the head scientist for Lord Mark's enterprise instead. That would have sped this process up. 

The emperor deigned to rise and after introductions they all shake hands. Major Dzersky was the type of man to show his aggressiveness with a firm hand squeeze. Fuchou found this incredibly amusing as he watched the man turn pale. Did the man not realize Fuchou could literally break his hand? Apparently not, though Fuchou held himself back from such a thing, this was no time to further antagonize the Barrayarans. 

The emperor then found his seat and everyone else followed his motions.

“Inquisitor Tsetung, We were surprised to hear from you through a complaint from one of our vassals,” the emperor noted coolly.

I was surprised you let a foreign delegate die at your wedding, Fuchou thought. But controlled himself further. He was a disciplined man.

“My apologies, I was merely trying to obtain answers for my bosses back in Xin Nanjing as quickly as possible. I had imagined that you also want this matter to be dealt with quickly,” Fuchou stated.

“We would like this unfortunate accident to be handled efficiently. Though it has been difficult to help considering that our expertise has not been called upon to aid in this matter these past few weeks,” the emperor observed.

“Why would we ask the killers to help us,” Gao abruptly demanded.

“Because if you got your head out of your ass for five seconds you'd realize that she died of an allergic reaction,” Major Dzersky shouted back.

“I'm sorry are you a doctor, how can you be making that claim,” Dr Xi demanded, glancing at Fuchou for approval.

“How can you be making any claims about my brother's guilt when there's no evidence against him,” Lord Vorkosigan demanded.

“You're ruining my business,” Mark joined in angrily. 

“I would ruin more than that if it meant receiving an honest answer from you,” Gao threatened. 

“Gao Tongzhi, zuo waibian,” Fuchou said quietly. He did not like Gao's comment or its implications. He was also quite tired of the man.

“Is that a threat,” Lord Vorkosigan demanded.

But Gao wasn't listening, he had turned to stare at Fuchou. Gao had been making an attempt to establish himself as a zealous and committed member of the communist party. Because under that military uniform and hardened expression the man wore, he was still afraid to die. He knew that Fuchou could execute him for his failure to protect AiMin Chan. 

Now he was being told to leave the table. 

They stared at each other a moment longer, before Gao turned and stumbled out of the room. He walked as if he'd just been fatally stabbed and was merely looking for a place to die.

Fuchou could feel the waves of unease coming from Cho Kong, the other member at the table who had been on planet when Delegate Chan had died and the only other one who could bear any blame for it.

The Barrayarans understood that something jarring had happened but they showed different levels of understanding. 

“The People's party of Zhongqing does not approve of the use of torture to extract confessions. It is impossible for us to discuss the creation of a paradise when we allow our citizenry to engage in such barbarism. It is beneath us. And more importantly it is ineffective at extracting truthful information,” Fuchou summarized patiently. Fuchou did not mind having a reputation as a cold-hearted bastard but he stopped short of being a true sadist.

Major Dzersky and Lord Mark both looked skeptical at this comment. The others politely hid any disbelief they might be feeling.

“Now, I apologize if I am too coarse or bold in my questions and comments, you see my parents were drug addicts so I never learned proper manners. But why is it the Zhongqi embassy requested vid surveillance at the time of Delegate Chan's death but we never received it,” Fuchou asked.

“There was nothing to see besides Mark handing the woman some maple mead,” Lord Vorkosigan stated sturdily.

“So why hide it,” Fuchou asked.

“Why hand over information to the Zhongqi chief of security when he acts like a mad dog,” Major Dzersky demanded.

“Are we clear why I'm here,” Fuchou asked curiously.

“To handle the investigation into the death of your delegate,” the emperor answered patiently.

“Which seems increasingly ridiculous since everyone who isn't insane realizes she had an allergic reaction and died,” Mark put in firmly.

Fuchou considered this statement.

“Which was highly unfortunate,” the emperor added giving Mark a look.

“Right, unfortunate, but not something to be blamed on the butter bugs” Mark agreed hastily.

Fuchou studied Mark. 

'Am I to understand that our delegate died an arms length away from him,” Fuchou asked Cho Kong.

“Comrade Gao reported that he was close by when she initially collapsed,” Kong agreed.

“What are you getting at,” Lord Vorkosigan asked impatiently.

Fuchou glanced at Hyung.

“Everyone keeps pointing out that Comrade Chan died of an allergic reaction. But one doesn't simply die of an allergic reaction the first time the body is exposed to an allergen. The body has to be exposed multiple times before the allergen can induce the reaction. So if Delegate Chan died of an allergic reaction when and how was she initially exposed,” Hyung explained patiently.

“So someone must have fed her bug butter before this incident,” General Allegre asked, trying to understand.

“No, molecular mimicry is always a possibility. In that case delegate Chan was exposed to something, a virus, a bacteria, or even a vaccine which caused her immune system to react. The bug butter may have merely had a similar epitope, that is, her immune system recognized the food as being similar to something it thought was dangerous. It overreacted and lead to her death,” Fuchou explained.

“So she still died because her body responded weirdly to the bug butter, so the case is closed,” Major Dzersky said.

“So was it just her who reacted oddly or is it possible that if the bug butter was given to any Zhongqi citizen he or she would die as well,” Fuchou explained.

“Like in Bei Min where children of Korean minorities developed narcolepsy after being given a flu vaccine. It turned most of them had an unusual allele on chromosome 23 which caused their bodies to attack their own orexin producing cells,” Dr Xi added, understanding where the conversation was going.

“You're worried that Lord Mark's bug butter could be used as a biological weapon,” the emperor asked, visibly chilled by the idea.

“And that Delegate Chan was the test case,” Allegre continued the thought.

Well that's ridiculous, Mark was just trying to start a business,” Lord Vorkosigan defended immediately.

“And how much would Zhongqi have to pay him to end this particular business,” Fuchou asked.

Mark's eyes lit up, “I'm sure a deal could be made.”

Fuchou stared at him, and only after a moment did Mark realize the question had been rhetorical.

“Mark Pierre Vorkosigan Enterprises does not engage in illegal activities,” Mark put in lamely. Liar, Fuchou thought savagely.

Fuchou turned to Gregor, “I'm sorry, can we speak privately a moment?”

The emperor considered this request and offered a slight nod.

With some effort they divested themselves of their respective subordinates who reluctantly trooped out and into an adjoining dining hall which was set up with refreshments.  
The emperor raised his eyebrows, silently inquiring as to what Fuchou wanted.

“Again, I don't usually get invited to these formal meetings. Zhongqi has a wide variety of diplomats who are better at asking questions in the appropriate way. But tell me, is there reason to believe Lord Mark did not merely stumble upon these butter bugs and their inventor?”

“Lord Mark has no reason to wish ill upon the people of Zhongqi,” the emperor answered quickly.

“No logical reason. But then what little I've read about his genetic and environmental background would lead me to suspect he is at great risk of developing a mental illness. Aside from his relations to your maternal uncle Emperor Yuri, he seems to have sustained persistent and long term abuse at someone's hands. Have you seen the markings on his body,” Fuchou asked.

The emperor stilled at these comments, “I had wondered if your bionic eyes were practical or merely theatrical.”

“Does Mark ever express a hatred for Zhongqi, communism or the like? Has he mentioned delusions or hallucinations of any sort.” Fuchou inquired. 

From what Fuchou had seen of Lord Mark the young man had seemed more concerned with how delegate Chan's death would affect him, rather than any remorse about her death. Moreover he seemed quick to look for his own personal gain even if it was at the expense of others. Fuchou easily pictured Qing Wu and her husband sitting where Lord Mark had sat earlier. So was Lord Mark deluded, deranged or merely a would be shark?

“Lord Mark has not expressed any delusions to Us. We think he is sincere in his comments that he had no intention to harm Delegate Chan.”

“Why do you do that,” Fuchou asked. The last patient who had spoken using the terms 'we' and 'us' had been a timid little girl who had responded to her parents divorce by developing a number of imaginary friends. 

Gregor raised an eyebrow.

“The 'we' and 'us' bit.”

“When I use the term “I” or “me” I am only speaking for myself. When I say “we” and “us” I am speaking with the weight of all of the Barrayar empire,” Gregor explained patiently.

Fuchou sighed, “I think it would be easier to believe you spoke for all of the Barrayaran Imperium if you at least had repre- you know what I don't care. I suppose if your subjects actually wanted to change your current system they can just host a revolution. Back to the business at hand, Lord Mark clearly has emotional issues. No, don't pretend otherwise, there's no sociological reason why he would look like that here on weight conscious Barrayar for no reason. There's clearly something wrong. Now you're telling me he stumbled upon this bug butter and its inventor and just so happened to kill our delegate. Fine, obviously we need to run chemical and biological tests on it to see if the bug butter could be used as a method to induce massive casualties on our population.”

“And if it does,” the emperor asked obviously envisioning the worst case scenario.

“My superiors would panic and demand that I destroy the bugs, the notes to make the bugs, and their creator to avoid any replication. I imagine they would also want Lord Mark to disappear but I can already tell that won't be an option,” Fuchou answered easily.

“you mean you'd want to kill Dr. Borgos,” the emperor asked looking troubled.

“Yes, the inventor of the bugs ,” Fuchou agreed.

“He's hardly a threat to anyone. Well, he's not a threat on purpose,” the emperor revised, looking thoughtful.

“Isn't he a criminal according to Escobaran authorities?”

“For not understanding how stock options work,” Gregor pointed out.

“For deceiving and stealing from people,” Fuchou corrected.

“He's a brilliant man within a very narrow frame of reference. Outside of it... he needs a great deal of supervision,” the emperor acknowledged.

“Yes, I'm sure he's very love-able in his own parasitic fashion. Regardless, if it came down to removing the possibility of a devastating weapon being unleashed upon a population that was not under your direct care, would you be willing to allow said removal,” Fuchou inquired.

“You speak about death in such vague terms,” the emperor noted.

“I would take the scientist out and shoot him, or strangle him, or stomp his brains in if you really wanted to see that. I would murder him and I wouldn't feel badly about it. Is that the language you want to hear,” Fuchou asked calmly.

From his expression, Fuchou could tell that the emperor did not want to hear those words.

But before Gregor offered a response they heard shouting from outside. 

“Mark,” Miles cried out.


	9. Chapter 9

“Well that was unexpected,” Dr Hyung noted. 

She and Fuchou were seated in the waiting area of the Imperial Military Hospital, where Lord Mark had been taken. He and Dr Hyung waited casually to hear how Lord Mark was doing. Fuchou had heard from Dr Hyung that Lord Mark had attempted to convince the skeptical Zhongqi that the bug butter was safe for consumption by eating it in front of them. He was fortunate in that the onset of his anaphylactic shock was slower than that of AiMin Chan's. Not to mention Dr Hyung had been quick to hit him with epinephrine then intubate him on site before total airway obstruction occurred. Fuchou was not pleased that Dr Xi had seen fit to stand by while this was occurring. 

“To suddenly develop an allergy like that after supposedly being exposed to the bug butter for months... that only raises more questions,” Fuchou said thoughtfully.

“You don't really think that was an elaborate ploy to convince us of his innocence do you,” Hyung asked jokingly. 

Fuchou however considered the quesiton seriously, “I don't think he could have counted on your willingness to jump in. But then the Residence supposedly has its own doctor on staff to handle medical issues. I'm not sure, does Lord Mark seem ambivalent about dying?”

“You mean the way Gao is? No, but he does seem hysterical about saving his business,” Hyung decided.

Fuchou considered what little he knew of Lord Mark. Certainly the marks on his body indicated prior abuse and it was certainly common for survivors of such abuse to develop feelings of inadequacy or low self esteem. But then Lord Mark had been present to watch the death of AiMin Chan and likely had some knowledge that death by anaphylaxis wasn't pleasant. Fuchou discarded the idea that Mark would poison himself in an attempt to claim he was innocent of willfully poisoning the delegate. 

But what about the lead scientist Dr Borgos? The emperor had implied the man was some sort of idiot savant, clueless excpet in his area of expertise. But then such cluelessness was easy enough to feign. Perhaps it was time to meet the man himself.

 

Ten minutes in to speaking with Dr Borgos Fuchou decided the emperor was on target in his assessment. Fuchou doodled in a notepad as he let one of the other members of the party, Ms Martya Koudelka rant. The emperor had allowed Fuchou to meet with Dr Borgos, but had also seen to it that the other main members of Lord Mark's company were invited as well. This included the two Koudelka sisters. Fuchou gathered this was meant to be some sort of punishment. 

“When do we get compensated for this witch hunt,” Martya demanded.

Fuchou raised his eyebrows, and glanced at the guards at the door, “I'm sorry I don't remember asking to burn anyone at the stake.”

“You know what I mean, your government has been harrassing us since your delegate died. But it's obvious that Mark was poisoned, probably by one of your own people,” Martya declared.

“It's possible,” Fuchou agreed.

Martya paused mid-rant, but only for a moment.

“So you admit it.”

Fuchou shrugged, “I had met Comrade Chan a few times before she died. I don't know that I could call her likeable, but I admired her ability to get people working together without having to drive a grav tank over anyone. She's done a fair amount to aid in anti-corruption movements within the government. There was some talk of having her elected to be speaker of the People's movement and possibly even Chairman in ten or twenty years. All talk mind you. But the woman was certainly a rising star. It's entirely within reason that when you are that high in government someone is bound to want you dead.”

Why do you think Gao has been foaming at the mouth? He's on edge, as is the rest of the embassy. They all know I am perfectly within my rights to take each of them out and shoot them for treason and suspected murder because of this incident, Fuchou thought but didn't say.

“You mean this could have been a political assassination? Then why try to kill Mark,” Kareen asked.

She was clearly upset about the ordeal. Fuchou suspected that she and Lord Mark were more than business partners.

Fuchou continued to doodle, “perhaps the killer thought Lord Mark knew something that would lead us to him, or her, and preferred to get rid of him as well.”

“But what did he know that I don't know? I was standng nearby when the delegate fell to the ground. I don't think he saw anything that I didn't,” Kareen said. 

“Mm, and on top of that eye witness testimony, especially in emotionally stressful situaitons such as what the two of you in, is unreliable. It's highly likely that Lord Mark would not have remembered much of what was going on around him,” Fuchou observed.

“I don't know about that,” Martya said quietly.

Fuchou raised an eyebrow, “why would you say that?”

Martya considered saying something more before frowning, “I imagine that anything you need to know you can ask Miles or Gregor about. MPVK won't be helping you any more than we are absolutely required to.”

Fuchou had clarified that the scientist was not a criminal mastermind. Well that was one suspect down, several hundred to go, he thought wryly. Now he needed to continue his work without the Martya assaulting him, which she seemed on the edge of doing now.

A knock came out the door.

Xiafeng popped her head in.

“Are you interrogating war criminals,” she asked sternly surveying the scientist and sisters.

“No, just business associates. What are you doing here,” Fuchou inquired. He noted Sergeant Zhou standing just behind her.

“We finished at the museum then came back, then heard that you were staking out the hospital to catch suspects. I didn't want the capitalist running dogs to poison you so we brought lunches,” Xiafeng explained.

“Ah, thank you Xiafeng,” Fuchou said as she brought a boxed lunch over to him. Since they'd been speaking in Mandarin the rest of the room did not understand.

Fuchou switched to english for their benefit, “this is my daughter.”

“I hope you're telling my father everything he needs to know for his important investigation,” Xiafeng said staring as menacingly as possible at them.

“Be nice, they're not class enemies. They're members of the proletariat,” Fuchou observed. 

“Well we're not exactly you're friends,” Martya stated glaring at him.

“Of course not, you've been brainwashed. Now you're angry because you've only just realized your entire life is a lie,” Xiafeng explained.

“Is she serious,” Kareen asked in confusion.

“It's a good thing I have my pamphlets. Now we can figure out just how oppressed they are,” Xiafeng said booting up her own notepad.

“That's good thinking. I'll continue with my investigation and you can convince them of the horrors of imperialsim. Just remember to use gentle words. Empathy and understanding are two of the best ways to win people over to your cause,” Fuchou observed as he got up.

“Hey, where are you going,” Martya demanded.

“I have some surveillance vids to watch,” fuchou explained.

He paused and murmured for Sergeant Zhou's ear only, “don't let Xiafeng eat anything they give her.”

He doubted she would but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

Meanwhile Xiafeng would keep Martya Koudelka from harassing him while he worked. At least for a short time. 

“You can't just walk out, we need to discuss the need to overthrow the patriarchy which is destroying your potential,” Xiafeng declared. Fuchou didn't know which captive she was speaking to.


	10. Chapter 10

The surveillance vids which showed Delegate Chan's death were grudgingly handed over to Fuchou for viewing. He and Dr Hyung were only allowed to watch them in one room of the hospital with Dzersky and two ImpSec guards. 

“Lord Mark is rather forceful in his efforts to get Comrade Chan to drink the maple mead,” Dr Hyung murmured in English.

They were both required to speak English while watching the vids. 

Dzersky frowned at this comment.

“Yes, but this is his first major business venture and it was only starting to take off. Clearly he was desperate for as much publicity as possible,” Fuchou agreed.

They watched AiMin Chan clutch herself and fall. They watched it again.

“The bottle he pours out for her isn't new, it's been handed out to several people before her. None of whom show symptoms of sickness. So we know any poison that was used was not placed in the bottle itself,” Fuchou said.

“But we already know it wasn't a simple poison. The chunk of bug butter that Lord Mark bit into has been separated and given to Dr Xi to study and to Imperial Security. But I'll bet there's nothing out of the ordinary in regards to the bug butter he ate compared to the bug butter itself. I'm thinking about type I diabetes,” she asked.

Dzersky frowned at this, “what are you talking about.”

“In type I diabetes, the patient's immune system recognizes surface markers on the body's insulin producing cells and proceeds to destroy them. It happens as a result of a specific genetic makeup coupled with an illness, one particular strain of rhino virus, or the common cold,” Fuchou surmised.

“What,” Dzersky asked, still confused.

“Delegate Chan is known to have seasonal allergies. We see her coughing and rubbing her eyes during her discussion with Lord Mark. She then accepts the cup from Lord Mark, who never washes his hands after the interaction with her. We're assuming the reason she's coughing is because of her allergies, but what if she simply had a low level cold. Something you'd hardly notice? What if that was the hit that got her immune system primed to recognize the bug butter as enemy and the next hit which caused her to go into anaphylactic shock was the bug butter which has similar surface markers compared to the cold she has?”

“Do you have samples of Lord Mark's blood prior to the emperor's wedding. We could find out if his immune system has been primed since then,” Fuchou observed.

“It has been what? Two weeks since the emperor's wedding. Time enough for the adaptive immune system to kick in,” Hyung noted.

A plan was formed and executed in under an hour. Lord Mark's blood now showed immunoreactivity with the bug butter whereas previous blood taken from him did not.

“Any news,” Dr Xi asked stepping in. 

“Here eat this,” Fuchou said offering the man some bug butter from a bag.

Dr Xi stared down at the bag in disgust and then back at Fuchou.

“I-”

“Dr Xi, I have a hypothesis that Comrade Chan only died because she'd been exposed to a manufactured virus prior to eating the bug butter. Now I know you have not been exposed, or if you have there has not been enough time between your exposure and now for you to develop an allergic reaction to the bug butter. So you should be safe to eat it.” Fuchou explained.

Xi glanced nervously at Dr Hyung who stood idly by.

“I trust her to perform your intubation if need be,” Fuchou said pleasantly.

The younger man took the piece of bug butter in his hand, shaking only slightly and ingested it.

Fuchou and Dr Hyung stared at him.

“How long did it take for Lord Mark to develop symptoms,” Fuchou inquired.

“A few minutes,” Hyung observed.

Dr Xi looked ready to faint but did not.

Ten minutes passed.

“Hm, that seems a point in favor of the virus idea and one against the bioweapon of mass destruction,” Fuchou noted.

“How do you figure? Maybe Xi and Chan don't share the same alleles at the necessary spots,” Hyung said playing devil's advocate.

Fuchou considered this and popped a piece of the bug butter into his own mouth, “unlike you Koreans, Han Chinese such as myself are a notoriously homogenous population.”

He offered her some of the bug butter which Dr Hyung accepted.

“It's not so dissimilar to tofu,” she observed.

Fuchou snorted, “sure, if you don't know how to cook it.”

A knock came and Emperor Gregor entered to catch them eating the bug butter. His eyebrows raised at this scene.

“Has it been decided that the bug butter is not a bioweapon,” he asked, just a tad dryly.

Fuchou briefly considered offering the emperor some bug butter. Likely the emperor had been exposed to Delegate Chan during her illness. Likely they'd shaken hands and she may have given him mild symptoms and the first hit out a two hit disease. Would the emperor go into anaphylactic shock upon eating the bug butter? 

Fuchou supposed he and his people would be shot if they murdered the emperor, Grand inquisitor or not.

“We have the beginnings of a theory,” Fuchou explained, briefly outlining what they thought was happening.

“But how would anyone know how to develop a virus such as this in order to induce shock after ingesting the bug butter,” Gregor asked.

“My understanding is that after Lord Mark paid Dr Borgos's bail and they fled in the night Dr Borgos took his research notes. But he didn't delete them from the University’s systems altogether, that would have been too laborious. So at least his initial work remains in the public domain. If someone was very familiar with Barrayar and happened to know what was happening in high vor circles they might have learned about Lord Mark's mysterious bugs through word of mouth. Lord Mark arrived with those bugs at the beginning of summer, there were two months between his arrival and your wedding. Time enough to make a slightly modified virus with the right tools, even here,” Fuchou observed.

“So are we all infected,” Gregor inquired.

“It would be best to assume so for the moment, though it's likely not the case,” Fuchou observed. 

“Do you have any theories on who would do this,” Gregor asked.

Fuchou shrugged, “people with a vendetta against the Vorkosigan's who seek to gain vengeance by watching one of them fail catastrophically, One of AiMin Chan's enemies who wanted her dead, one of Barrayar's enemies who want to prevent you from your bid for a council seat.”

“That would be a very long list,” Gregor observed, his forehead wrinkling in dismay.

“Yes, we may need a way to narrow it down,” Fuchou agreed. 

A knock on the door came and Xiafeng poked her head in.

“Are you still working? I tried to convince the armsmen to unionize but they laughed at me,” she declared indignantly.

“You mean they didn't like the idea,” Fuchou inquired, feigning surprise.

“They don't know what they want! They've been kept down so long, they don't know what up is,” Xiafeng declared angrily.

“It's difficult to be dragged out into the sunlight when you've spent your whole life in a cave,” Fuchou agreed sympathetically.

Gregor turned around at this point to see who was yelling. 

Xiafeng, who seemed ready to list further injustices suddenly feel silent.

Gregor looked at her, then back at Fuchou.

“My daughter Xiafeng. She's training to be the next chairman,” Fuchou put in.

“I see,” Gregor said.

“Though you are right, it is rather late,” Fuchou said continuing his conversation with Xiafeng. 

Fuchou considered their options, “I suppose the long way of answering the question of who initially infected Comrade Chan would be to find the virus. Since it only produces very mild symptoms that may be hard to locate all things considered. You can spot the infected who have developed antibodies to the bug butter and you can find people who those who haven't been infected. But it's difficult to find the currently infected who are only starting to produce antibodies to the virus and to the bug butter. I'll message if I come up with a better approach.”

“You're leaving,” Gregor inquired. He obviously expected Fuchou to stay, but he couldn't exactly order Fuchou to stay.

“I don't like staying in hospitals. I need to do my thinking elsewhere,” Fuchou said.

“Aren't you a doctor,” Gregor asked watching Fuchou and his team walk out.

Technically his license form the Betan Medical Society had been revoked. They said Fuchou could have it back when he stopped murdering people. He wasn't ready to do that.

“You're really pretty, did you used to be a woman,” Xiafeng blurted, speaking to Gregor.

The emperor looked flummoxed by this question. One armsman looked as if he was having a heart attack. The other seemed uncertain about whether he was supposed to fight a little girls for such an insult.

“No. They don't do that here,” Fuchou explained calmly leading her out.


	11. Chapter 11

“Going through everyone who shook hands with Delegate Chan in order to see who got sick from the virus she was carrying sounds like it will be time consuming,” Miles said irritably as he sipped his coffee.

He and Gregor were seated in one of the rooms in the Residence.

Gregor sighed, “if I could speed this process up for you, I would.”

It didn't take a skilled observer to notice the dark circles under Miles's eyes and the gray skin. Gregor wanted to ask his foster brother if he'd been properly performing his seizures. Miles always looked particularly worse for wear when he put them off for too long. 

“Has Dr Canaba been informed that he'll be working around the clock on this? I assume we can spare some techs to help him if need be,” Miles inquired.

The question irritated Gregor. Not because of Miles's comments but because Dr Canaba had apparently scheduled time for vacation right after Gregor's wedding. Even Gregor had not been allotted time off after his own wedding.

ImpSec was in the process of hunting him down at some resort on South Continent. They were expected to find him within the hour. 

“We will inform him of his duties shortly,” Gregor said.

Miles didn't look relieved by this, choosing instead to take another swig of coffee.

“Is it too early to start drinking,” Miles asked.

Gregor shook his head, “I don't know why you're so upset about this. Mark is fine. I know he was released from ImpMil last night.”

Miles rubbed his head, “I just... can't stop thinking that this is my fault. That someone is trying to get even with me through him and... and that has already happened before dammit. Mark shouldn't have to constantly pay for my actions.”

So this is residual guilt from the events on Jackson's Whole, Gregor decided. That or guilt over Mark's treatment at Ser Galen's hand for all those years, Gregor amended.

“Miles you don't even know that Delegate Chan's killer was motivated by you. There's evidence enough she had enemies of her own. Besides who do you think would be trying to attack you in this way? Alexei Vormoncrief has wealthy relatives who are both displeased about his current circumstances and could pay for such a virus, but considering Barrayar's dubious past with biological weapons I doubt they'd take that course for multiple reasons,” Gregor pointed out

Miels sat back, “But if not a Barrayaran enemy then who? Ryoval had no heirs to his empire, he planned to live forever. The Cetagandans? It would be their style, I suppose. But with Rian there... I don't see the murderer coming from there.”

“So you think the Zhongqi killed one of their own,” Gregor inquired. 

“Martya told me that Fuchou Tsetung was considering it a realistic possibility. Far be it for me to question him on his own people,” Miles noted.

Gregor tapped his fingers on the table.

“I will be meeting with him shortly. I suppose if you wanted to investigate his personnel that would be an ideal time to speak with him about it. His permission would be useful, though not necessary to move forward in that regard,” Gregor noted.

 

Fuchou was indeed meant to speak with the emperor shortly. But at the moment he was holding a baby and seated with several high vor women around a table in the main dining room. He wasn't certain if he'd been placed in this room to wait as a matter of practicality, as some subtle slur about his masculinity or because the women around him were secretly spies out to steal information from him. 

They were discussing the Empress's baby shower. It was an important state matter from what he understood, but apparently not top secret since he was sitting with them. Then again, Lady Vortugalov undoubtedly appreciated the reprieve she was getting from her infant who had previously been screaming its head off. 

When he had entered the baby had obviously been screaming for some time, the other women were irritable about it and offering perhaps even shoving advice at the mother. The mother for her part looked was being defensive about the situation and the tension wasn't helping any. 

No one wanted to sit in a room for an extended period of time with a screaming infant. The solutions that sprang to mind were to either bash the child's head in or offer his services. Fuchou rationalized that the infant couldn't be blamed for her screaming so he chose the latter action. It took surprisingly little coaxing for Lady Vortugalov to hand over the baby. The baby had quieted down after Fuchou had taken her on his lap and started making paper cranes for her out of the differently colored flimsies on the table. Apparently they were there to serve as different designs for the invitations to the shower. Though no one scolded him for absconding with their materials.

The women did seem incredibly interested in Fuchou though. He suspected that men in this society, for a variety of reasons, had little to do with child care.

“Do you have any thoughts on a baby shower, Inquisitor Tsetung,” one of the women asked in amusement.

“I'd make sure the water was warm, but not hot and I would bring lots of towels.”

They giggled at his lame joke. 

“Inquisitor Tsetung, if you are done playing with infants, the emperor has requested your presence,” Major Dzersky said appearing behind him. He seemed particularly peeved this morning.

“What does the emperor have against infants. I thought this whole party would be about celebrating one,” Fuchou noted.

“The empress's party will celebrate a new heir to the throne. A good thing for the imperium, but not something a grown man would be expected to concern himself with at the moment unless he was a certain way,” Dzersky explained.

“Major Dzersky are you implying that I'm a homosexual,” Fuchou asked in confusion.

“I am implying that you should put the baby down and come with me,” Major Dzersky said.

The baby had stopped playing with the cranes made from flimsies. Fuchou handed the infant back to her mother. Blessedly the child stayed quiet.

“Don't mind him, he's getting a divorce,” one of the women said quietly as Fuchou left with Major Dzersky.


	12. Chapter 12

Fuchou felt a vague sense of empathy with the ImpSec Major who was leading him to the emperor. He wondered if he ought to offer the man some advice on dealing with the divorce. Despite his training as a psychiatrist FUchou had handled his own divorce with several bottles of alcohol and a near fatal lightflyer crash. 

Cue the sad music for the origin of these eyes and these carbonite bands, Fuchou thought sardonically. It was also the reason he'd quit drinking. One life damaging accident followed by several months of rehab was enough for one lifetime.

Fuchou glanced at Dzersky, but decided a heart to heart talk at this time of day in these circumstances wouldn't be wothwhile for either of them.

They entered into a small office where the emperor and his smallest auditor sat. 

“Sire, I've located Inquisitor Tsetung after some searching. He was ostensibly aiding in the preparation for the Imperial baby shower,” Major Dzersky put in snidely.

“What can I say, I love a good party,” Fuchou put in.

Fuchou charitably avoided pointing out that Dzersky should encourage homosexuality. Barrayar already had a gender imbalance, surely the man would want to push things back in his favor if he was now in the market for a new female spouse. 

The emperor seemed confused by this but chose not to comment on it.

“Please sit,” he instructed instead.

Fuchou dropped into a chair. Major Dzersky also sat down, the peeved look remained on his face.

“Have you heard anything more about the location of Dr Canaba,” Lord Miles asked Dzersky impatiently.

Dzersky made a face, “I'm afraid not. His hotel was found and searched but his location is still unknown.”

“Who is this,” Fuchou asked.

“Our top scientist for security matters,” Miles answered distractedly.

“You only have one,” Fuchou asked.

“Of course not, we have a number of scientists available to aid in this investigation. Frankly I'm not sure why we call on this fellow so often, if he was willing to abandon his initial post to work for the Imperium then surely he could abandon his post if a better position was offered,” Major Dzersky pointed out cryptically.

So their top scientist was a galactic? Was that a comment on Barrayar's actual or perceived failings into the current science and technologies available to the rest of the planets, Fuchou wondered

The emperor's lips thinned at this idea, undoubtedly displeased by the idea but willing to consider its plausibility.

“You believe the person who was out to kill Delegate Chan did so with Dr Canaba's help? Surely all of his work is well documented. Wouldn't someone have been become aware of any unusual activities he was involved in,” Gregor inquired.

“Whose to say he worked on this virus in his main labs,” Dzersky noted.

“But he always had a tail, in case he did try anything funny,” Miles pointed out, biting his nails.

Gregor considered this, “if that's the case, how did they lose Dr Canaba at his hotel on South Continent? How long has he been unaccounted for?”

Dzersky shook his head. 

“The tail seemed to believe Canaba was still in the hotel. He must have had help planning his escape,” Dzersky said.

“If he escaped. If he hasn't been murdered by whoever created the virus in an attempt to hide his trail,” Fuchou pointed out.

The emperor considered this, “Dr. Canaba is only called to aid in certain high security scientific problems on an irregular basis. His work at the Vorbarra Institute of Technology is his primary focus for the most part.”

“So you think because he shows up infrequently at Imperial Security Headquarters that means no one has guessed his involvement with aiding criminal investigations,” Fuchou asked.

“The person who would be paying that much attention to Dr Canaba is someone who already has a clue about his work,” Miles pointed out.

Fuchou considered this. Why was he being told about the death or disappearance of this man? Was it an excuse to explain away why more had not been done in this investigation? Was it a smokescreen to hide evidence? 

Fuchou removed a small holocube from his pocket and placed it on the table.

“Well, if we're going to discuss the possible involvement of people I have something I wanted to show you,” Fuchou said activating the cube which began to slowly flip through a number of images.

He noted the color drain from the emperor's face.

“They're taken from the Barrayaran run POW camps during the failed Escobaran Invasion,” Fuchou explained amicably.

Lord Miles for his part had gone from a look of outright horror to anger at Fuchou.

“What's your point,” Lord Miles demanded, offering a concerned side glance towards Gregor.

“My job here is to find out who killed Delegate Chan. I think we have enough evidence to conclude it wasn't an accident. As such I've been looking through her personal effects to find clues that might indicate who would want her dead. Interestingly I found this holocube in the desk drawer of her office. The note attached to it simply read “Bie wang” or never forget. Now, why would she have images of Barrayaran war cirmes in her desk,” Fuchou asked.

“I have no idea,” the emperor answered. He was now staring at Fuchou, purposely ignoring the images that were still being cycled through.

Fuchou tapped his fingers on the table, “did she ever speak to you about these images? Did she ever act out on them?”

“She made no direct reference to them,” the emperor declared.

“Stop pussy-footing around it, are you suggesting the emperor ordered the murder of your delegate over some images,” Dzersky demanded.

“The thought did cross my mind,” Fuchou said quietly.

“Gregor wouldn't do that,” Lord Miles defended.

“Besides, what do you think you could do about it if he had ordered her execution,” Dzersky asked dismissively.

“Well, a revenge murder would be difficult,” Fuchou admitted. Truthfully a homicide in this room wouldn't be difficult. 

This was the emperor's home. While there were dozens of guards outside the doors to this room there were only two seated with them. Dzersky was clearly emotionally compromised and distracted by his divorce. As for the little auditor, while his loyalty to his emperor was unquestionable he also obviously had physical defects which would make him easy to remove if need be.

Fuchou's altered nervous system, hooked to the carbonite fibers gave him a physical edge compared to his non-altered colleagues not merely in strength but also in response time. His muscles seemed to remember the feeling of having a neck give way in his hands. It was not unpleasant.

Of course Fuchou also realized that immediately after killing the emperor he would be shot. He suspected the Zhongqi embassy would be burned down and its inhabitants slaughtered. There would be no escaping that. It was therefore not in his best interests to attempt to murder the emperor. 

“I suppose I would have to report what I'd uncovered to my superiors and allow them to make judgments on how to proceed. Though I can already tell you they'll likely protest your entry unto the United Galactic Security Council,” Fuchou continued.

“But what is there to report when you have no evidence that I or any of my people attacked your delegate,” Gregor asked looking somewhere between offended and angry.

“Besides, how do you know this was something Delegate Chan always had in her desk. Is it possible it was placed there after her death as a red herring,” the little auditor asked.

Fuchou shrugged, “all things are possible. I had testing done on it, and her DNA was present on the cube's surface suggesting that she had handled it. So there is some evidence that she had it prior to her death. I suppose I have trouble with the idea of you murdering her yourself,” Fuchou said addressing Gregor directly.

“But my understanding is that you have a bit of a cult of personality on Barrayar. People swear oaths by your name. So how plausible is it that a renegade Imperial officer might look into killing off a foreign delegate,” Fuchou asked.

“Impossible,” Dzersky scoffed.

“Really? Delegate Chan was here for a little over a month and a half, that's plenty of time to get to know her. I will admit she was an abrasive woman,” Fuchou suggested.

“The Barrayaran empire does not murder foreign delegates because of bad behavior,” the emperor put in angrily.

Fuchou shrugged, “I just thought it was an interesting find. Perhaps it's nothing.”

Fuchou didn't believe that. He just wasn't sure what the point of the holocube was. Was it truly to remind Delegate Chan not to trust Barrayarans? They were imperialists, the enemies of a communist system. So Delegate Chan should have automatically known not to trust them since she was a Good Citizen of Zhongqi. So why this prop? 

Fuchou admitted that sometimes it was not good enough to be innocent. One had to give every appearance of being innocent of a crime, especially one as wispy as sympathy for the enemy. Was this a means of showing that Delegate Chan secretly hated the Barrayarans even if some Zhongqi photographer caught pix of her laughing or seeming to enjoy her time on Barrayar? 

In-fighting between members of the communist party was dirty. Perhaps Delegate Chan wanted to make sure her political ambitions would not be tainted by this assignment to Barrayar.

So how did this impact who killed her? Was it an ally of a Zhongqi enemy who was frustrated by the lack of scandalous material Delegate Chan provided in her staunch and antagonistic approach to the Barrayarans? Was it a Barrayaran who was fed up with whatever rhetoric she was continually spouting?

“But since you've been granted this interview, perhaps you can return the spirit of cooperation,” the emperor was saying.

Fuchou snapped back to listen to the man talk.

“How is that,” Fuchou inquired.

“We want the security cam footage for the Zhongqi embassy. Proof that it wasn't one of yours who was infecting her,” Miles insisted.

Fuchou shrugged, “there is nothing in those tapes which incriminates anyone.”

That was a lie.

“But if you'd like the cameras for the outer perimeter I can permit that,” Fuchou continued.

“What do you have to hide on the ones within the embassy itself,” the little auditor asked.

“State secrets, obviously,” Fuchou said. 

Lord Miles looked disappointed at this admission. Was he expecting more political dancing? Fuchou hardly knew, but he had other avenues to pursue.

 

Fuchou returned to the Zhongqi embassy and went back to looking through Aimin Chan's comm. She kept nothing personal on either her main commconsole or her commpad. So where were her letters to friends? Her pictures of family? Where was that smutty romance novel she was either reading or writing? 

Fuchou imagined there had to be another comm somewhere, or more likely a USB stick Chan had kept to house her personal information. 

As he contemplated where to find such things a harried Cho Kong entered the room.

“Inquisitor Tsetung, the Barrayarans say they have your permission to view our security footage,” Cho stated, her voice raising slightly at the end as if she were desperately trying to make the statement a question.

“I have given them permission,” Fuchou said.

“But Comrade,” she began, her voice rising further.

“Comrade Cho, please come in and close the door,” Fuchou said.

Flustered, the woman did so. 

“Comrade Fuchou, there is information on those cams that the Barrayarans could use against us,” she began.

“Comrade Cho, you seem like a very competent woman and I appreciate that. You're also obviously a very loyal party member, as is Lieutenant Colonel Gao. However, I've noticed that there are leave entries missing from the electronic book for you and Gao. Yet in the vids I can clearly see one or both of you exiting embassy grounds. Why is that,” Fuchou asked.

Cho paled but said nothing.

“If I find out that the two of you colluded in the murder of Delegate Chan I'm just going to take the pair of you out on the embassy lawn and I'm going to shoot you,” Fuchou said with barely concealed irritation.

“I would never betray the party by killing one of our own,” Cho blurted in horror. 

Fuchou sighed, “so you're lovers then?”

Fuchou did not understand what Cho Kong saw in the lumbering, ham-fisted Gao. But then they were millions of miles away from their homeworld on a tiny outpost in an ostensibly hostile environment. Under such circumstances it wasn't surprising that they would cling to each other. 

Cho looked both embarrassed and ashamed, “I cannot apologize enough for the distraction I undoubtedly caused Comrade Gao. Perhaps if we hadn't – he would have responded better to Delegate Chan's collapse.”

Fuchou shook his head, “Gao has no experience with medical emergencies of that nature. Besides the reception was so crowded it would have been impossible for him to move any faster. She would have died regardless.”

Fuchou suddenly considered this situation in a new light.

“Did you remove the entries because you thought I'd shoot Gao for incompetence,” Fuchou asked.

Cho Kong, shook her head miserably, “I change them before then because Comrade Chan didn't approve of... such things among coworkers.”

“So you were trying to hide your trysts from her,” Fuchou said. 

Dating among party members was encouraged, provided neither member was the direct superior of the other. Since Kong was civilian and Gao was military they weren't even in the same hierarchy. So Aimin Chan's concerns about dating were based on her own preferences rather than party doctrine.

Fuchou considered this. Then he wrote something down on a flimsy and handed it to Cho.

“I'm going out for a bit. If I don't come back by Xiafeng's bedtime tonight please pass this on to Lord Miles Vorkosigan.”

Cho's eyebrows rose but she only nodded obediently.


	13. Chapter 13

Fuchou was mildly surprised to find that Galina Dzersky still lived with her husband. But there she was, in her husband's apartment folding laundry. Being non-vor and not especially wealthy it seemed the woman of the family was relied upon to handle the household chores. 

Fuchou found her as she was taking a new load of laundry out of the dryer. Because if nothing else, Dzersky was wealthy enough to afford a washer and dryer in this Vorbarra Sultana apartment. Good thing too since the husband and wife had three little Dzerskys to keep clothed, two boys and a little girl.

“Good afternoon Mrs Dzersky, is your husband home,” Fuchou asked when she answered the door.

She took in his face and uniform before shaking her head, “no, I'm sorry.”

“I see. May I talk to you about Delegate Aimin Chan,” Fuchou inquired.

Galina Dzersky frowned, “I don't know why you think I know anything about her and frankly I'm uncomfortable with your sudden appearance at my door while my husband isn't home.”

She moved to close the door.

“Are you such a fair weather friend that you would forget Comrade Chan so quickly,” Fuchou asked.

The door shut forcefully in his face.

“You'd leave your husband for Aimin while she was still alive but you won't help solve her murder?”

The door opened again abruptly.

“You, whoever you are, you should not be spreading such vicious rumors around so casually,” Galina stated, her eyes glistening with rage and held back tears.

“But they're not rumors, are they,” Fuchou asked softly.

Galina glared at him, after a brief hesitation she opened the door wider to allow him in.

“I will answer what I can for you, but then I must request that you never come back here,” she stated.

Fuchou did not make that promise, “I won't bother you anymore than I have to.”

Galina moved some clothes off one of the couches but did not offer him any beverages. She did not sit down. She wanted him gone quickly. She was busy packing it seemed. Clothes for her and for a smaller version of herself.

“To begin, I am Fuchou Tsetung, a Grand Inquisitor for the People's communist party and I am here to investigate the death of Aimin Chan,” Fuchou began.

“I know about you, My husband Andrei has told me about you,” Galina said coolly.

“And what has he said about me,” Fuchou asked.

“That you're a malicious psychopath out to falsely accuse Barrayar of the accidental death of Aimin Chan,” Galina said, not mincing words.

“I suppose he has reason to make that statement,” Fuchou admitted.

“Are you here to have me incriminate my husband or to accuse me of adultery? Or is this some plot to slander the name of your now dead delegate,” she demanded.

“You seem confused. The communist party wants couples to produce children in order to perpetuate itself. The more children party members have the better since that means more little communists. I understand that Barrayar has a similar goal, more babies. Now while Barrayar is still fighting to replace body births with uterine replicators it makes sense that there is a stigma towards homosexuality. This is not a problem on Zhongqi. It's ok to be gay there,” Fuchou noted.

“So you claim. Then what do you want,” Galina asked.

“To begin, I'm not here to pass any judgments. What consenting adults do behind closed doors is only my business in so far as it impacts the investigation into Aimin's death,” Fuchou explained.

Galina stared at him skeptically.

“Was the Vorbarra Sultana district dance the first time you met Aimin Chan,” Fuchou asked.

Galina's eyes widened slightly.

“How did you know about that,” she asked.

Fuchou shrugged, “guest lists and the power of a few keyboard buttons that allow me to find specific names.”

Galina's lips thinned and for the first time she looked embarrassed, “Yes, we met a little over a month ago.”

Fuchou waited.

“My husband had me invited to that dance. It was such a silly thing really, we'd been having problems in our marriage since... well he thought it would help if we spent more time together.”

Her brow was furrowed, Mrs Dzersky appeared to be deep in thought. 

“But you didn't,” Fuchou said.

“I didn't,” Galina asked in confusion, her concentration broken.

“You didn't think it would help if you spent more time with him,” Fuchou said.

Galina warily considered Fuchou.

“I'm unclear about Barrayaran marriage custom. Is it still common to have a matchmaker assign you a husband,” Fuchou inquired.

Galina sighed, “for the non-vor it's not so common. But my family, well my mother was from an impoverished vor family and my father had goals for us. So we mimicked the vor as best we could. A baba did help to negotiate my marriage.”

“Did you have a say in it,” Fuchou asked.

Galina considered this, she absently ran her hand through her long brown hair. It was a self-soothing gesture.

“It was a compromise I made with my parents. They'd let me go to college and I'd let them pick me a husband and settle down afterwards. They were very traditional,” Galina admitted.

“What did you study,” he asked.

“Chemical engineering,” she said, her chin rising only slightly in defiance.

“You're a stay at home wife with a degree in chemical engineering,” Fuchou asked in surprise.

Galina smiled bitterly, “having a degree doesn't mean much when no one will hire you.”

“Even here in the capital,” Fuchou had not fully appreciated the depths of sexism on this planet.

This time Galina looked away, “well I didn't try to find a job here in the capital. Not in a male industry. Andrei was very clear that he didn't approve and I had promised my parents I would make this marriage work.”

By make this marriage work you mean become a doormat? But Fuchou didn't ask the question.

“Not that you would understand,” Galina noted. She was embarrassed by her position as well.

“When I was dating my wife I used to censor myself constantly. She's a true believer in the party and I... well I have a habit of saying what I think for better but usually for worse,” Fuchou admitted.

Galina raised an eyebrow at this.

“After we married I started to say the things I'd always been thinking. It was such a naïve assumption that once we were married she would have to accept the things I knew she wouldn't tolerate when we were simply dating.”

“So you tricked her,” Galina said.

“I suppose so. The odd thing was she never had a problem with the work I did. You see she works for counterintelligence. I can't say much about her work since it's classified, but suffice it to say we understood each other in that regard. It certainly helped that I was away frequently and in our brief meetings it was easy to put my best foot forward. To nod my head and merely agree with what she thought or how she felt,” Fuchou admitted.

“Was she beautiful,” Galina asked already making assumptions about him.

Fuchou nodded, “but more than that she had a way of curing the restlessness I feel. Quieting my demons if you want to be poetic. She was- is a gifted musician with the zither, and of course she's brilliant. Mostly, I mean except for her fanatical view of the party.”

“So what happened,” Galina asked.

“We married. I started opening my mouth and criticizing party leadership. We would fight. I would go away for work for long periods. She found someone else. We divorced,” Fuchou summarized.

“You didn't even fight for her,” Galina asked.

“You mean I should have beaten up her new lover? In fairness she waited until we were divorced before formally starting her new relationship. It wasn't as if she were cheating on me while we were married. She is too pure for that. Besides what would that have done? She wouldn't love me again just because I got rid of the man she's currently married to,” Fuchou explained.

“You wouldn't try to make her love you again,” Galina asked.

“You can't force someone to love you. We were incompatible. It just took time for me to realize that and at that point the best thing I could do for her and for myself was to move on,” he admitted.

Galina shook her head, “you could accept that?”

Well after you nearly die flying a lightflyer into a cliff and wake up with bionic body parts you learn to accept a lot of things, Fuchou thought.

“When I was training as a pediatric psychiatrist at St Barnabus we had a saying on the ward, 'loving hands don't hurt'. It took me some time to recognize that staying married would only be painful for her, my daughter and myself. So yes, I came to accept that she had the right to a divorce,” Fuchou explained.

Galina broke down into tears.

Fuchou waited a moment before hunting down some tissues.

“I just thought there was something wrong with me because I didn't love Andrei. I never realized,” Galina began.

Fuchou sat down but offered no comment.

“I liked talking to Aimin when I first met her. Then we agreed to go out to tea a few days later. Soon we were snatching minutes here and there to talk to each other and I thought about her all the time. I thought, so this is what love feels like,” Galina said with a bittersweet smile.

“What happened,” Fuchou asked quietly.

“My husband initially didn't notice what was happening. He works a great deal, unsurprising considering his position in Imperial Security. Actually the reason I'd been invited to the District dance was so we could spend some time together away from the kids. But of course he was working then so really I was there and he was there on duty,” Galina explained.

“Did Major Dzersky find out about you and Aimin,” Fuchou asked.

Galina nodded, “he found us once during the day, I don't know how and... there was a great deal of yelling. He threatened to divorce me and keep the children. He said no court would give me custody of them once they knew what I'd been doing with a woman. I couldn't give them up... so I went home with him.”

Fuchou was silent.

“Though Aimin said her offer was still valid,” Galina reflected.

“What offer,” Fuchou asked.

Galina shook her head, “a pipe dream, she'd jokingly suggested that the children and I could come live with her on Zhongqi when she went back. That I could get a job in food engineering.”

“I never figured Aimin to be a joker,” Fuchou noted.

Galina sniffled and offered a small smile, “she could be playful.”

“So is your husband still divorcing you for what happened,” Fuchou asked.

“I'm divorcing him. Like you said about your own marriage. I just don't think we're compatible. But I didn't realize that before because I didn't know what being compatible felt like,” she said.

“Do you think you'll come to Zhongqi,” Fuchou asked.

Galina shook her head, “and what would I have to offer?”

“You're engineering degree, obviously,” Fuchou said incredulously.

Galina rolled her eyes, “I haven't worked on any engineering projects since I graduated college. I'm sure you have better homegrown engineers anyway.”

“Did Aimin Chan ever tell you about the founding of Zhongqi,” Fuchou asked.

Galina raised an eyebrow at this sudden change of topic and shook her head.

“The Firsters on Zhongqi made two big mistakes, they counted on there being native edible plants and they expected that the plants they brought would grow at least modestly well on the planet's soil. They were wrong and as a result there was a massive famine the first winter. Children disappeared from the streets and ended up in people's stews it was so bad. As a result we're a planet that is happy to accept any help we can get from individuals with expertise. With all respect to Aimin, I would never call her blindly magnanimous. If she told you she thought you could help as a food engineer then she wasn't saying that to be nice,” Fuchou explained.

Galina stared at him with a sort of smile that suggested she thought him crazy, well meaning, but crazy.

“I won't tell you what to do. I'm just saying if you're interested in emmigration contact me or my embassy. I'm saying this not as some sign of respect for Aimin but as a serious offer. If you are intelligent and educated and Barrayar won't use you then Zhongqi will gladly,” Fuchou said offering her his commcard.

Galina's smile didn't waver but she accepted the card.

“Anyway, I'm sorry to have upset you. Thank you for your time,” Fuchou said before leaving.

He walked down unto the street level. He saw a flash of light in his periphery and for the milliseconds before it hit him, Fuchou wished he'd brought his own security team.

 

“So Canaba is dead,” Miles said aloud in disgust to no one in particular.

He looked down at the images displayed on his screen.

Seated in his room in Vorkosigan house Miles had been going through the security footage from the Zhongqi embassy. But a message from Allegre had alerted him to the scientist's death.

“Bummer,” Ivan muttered looking over Miles's shoulder.

Miles glowered at his cousin, whom he'd gangpressed into watching the security vids as well.

“Thank you for that Ivan, it's a small wonder that your eloquent take on things isn't called on more often for diplomatic functions” Miles noted.

Ivan shrugged, “what do you want me to say? I'm not happy he's dead. But based on what I've heard about him, Dr Canaba was not a good person.”

Miles shook his head but didn't disagree with his cousin, “be that as it may this leads to more questions than answers. It also means tapping someone else to help not only with the current Zhongqi investigation but also to look into the forensic evidence for Canaba's murder.”

“Couldn't it be an accident,” Ivan asked hopefully.

“Could Dr Canaba accidentally decapitate himself in a handicapped toilet in a South Continent resort and then coat himself in bleach to prevent easy genetic identification of his killer? I don't know Ivan, I suppose it's a possibility,” Miles said.

“Well Jeez, I didn't get to read that part of the memo, you were already scrolling down,” Ivan muttered.

Their bickering was ended by a commcall from the Zhongqi embassy.

Miles expected to see the black-eyed shark Fuchou, instead it was Cho Kong who greeted him with barely concealed anxiety in her eyes.

“Good evening Lord Vorkosigan. I have a message for you from Inquisitor Tsetung. I need you to come to the embassy now to collect it,” she said.

Miles frowned at this, “what's this about?”

“I am not to speak about the matter over the commchannels. I need you to come here, please.”

Miles nodded after a moment and got up. This better not be some weird game that the Inquisitor was playing, he thought.


	14. Chapter 14

You can see concealed weapons, bone deformations and hidden safes, but you didn't notice the damn tail, Fuchou thought angrily as he woke with a splitting head ache. Granted, in retrospect it had not been his tail. Fuchou would have noticed that. It had been Galina's tail who had nailed Fuchou with a stunner beam. Apparently Major Dzersky didn't trust his wife even after her lover's death.

Fuchou rose to his knees then promptly vomited all over the concrete floor. 

“Don't try anything or I'll shoot you again,” a boy declared.

Fuchou glanced up at the uniformed officer, a young man with ensign's tabs. The boy had his stunner out. 

“Where are we,” he asked.

He didn't think it was Imperial Headquarters. It looked to be an abandoned warehouse.

“Keep your moth shut,” the boy snarled.

Ears ringing, Fuchou sat down. He couldn't believe he'd been shot by a damn stripling. You really are getting old, he thought rubbing his aching head.

“Do you know why we're here,” he asked.

“I said keep your mouth shut,” the boy said. The kid seemed excited rather than nervous. He wasn't wearing a name tag or any identifier. That was bad. Anonymity was the torturer's friend.

“Did you check on Galina before you left? Is someone else watching her,” Fuchou asked.

“Do you want me to shoot you,” the boy demanded. Fuchou imagined that he'd watched a number of movies and was no imitating a favorite tough guy character.

“I just don't want you to get in trouble for abandoning your post,” Fuchou said.

“He won't be in any trouble. He's done well in catching a predator such as yourself,” Major Dzersky said entering the room.

“Predator,” Fuchou inquired.

“I know your delegate was harassing my wife and attempting to intimidate her into handing over state secrets. You were trying to do the same thing,” Major Dzersky declared.

Fuchou blinked. His brain was slow and sluggish. Did Dzersky believe that Aimin had only been interested in his wife Galina as a means of getting secrets? That would require that Dzersky had revealed secrets to Galina in order for her to leak them. Dzersky didn't seem the type to discuss his work at home. So was this rouse for the boy?

“Did he try anything,” Dzersky asked looking to the boy.

“Not that I could see sir. It looked like he was just talking to your wife. I shot him as he left, just like you told me to sir,” the boy said, eager for praise.

“Excellent. I need to speak with him. You need to stand guard outside while I interrogate him on just what sorts of secrets his people have stolen or have tried to steal,” Dzersky said.

“But what if he tries something,” the boy asked glaring at Fuchou.

“I'm prepared for that,” Dzersky said grimly. They all glanced at the lethal plasma arc at his hip.

The boy nodded and stepped outside.

Fuchou suspected that Dzersky planned to shoot Fuchou then claim that Fuchou had tried to attack him. Dzersky might even sacrifice the boy in an attempt to show that he only killed Fuchou after Fuchou murdered the boy, Fuchou hypothesized.

“Is this a common interrogation site for Imperial Security,” Fuchou asked.

“Why did you visit my wife,” Andrei Dzersky asked.

“I knew Aimin's proclivities,” Fuchou began.

“Her proclivities? Her proclivities to be a marriage ruining whore? Did your government know that and purposely send her here in an attempt to weaken Barrayar,” Dzersky demanded.

“I imagine they wanted to see if Aimin could cut it. Communist leadership wanted to know if she could get some concessions on meridium import, master proper Barrayaran etiquette in little time and hold her own in an environment hostile to women. By all accounts she was thought to have done well. Until she died of course. Her loss will be felt on Zhongqi,” Fuchou decided.

“You thought she was doing well,” Dzersky demanded.

He was agitated, he paced. But he was careful to maintain a distance from Fuchou. No chance to kick him in the nuts and steal his weapon, Fuchou decided as he sat on the ground. His head still felt like it was spinning. No chance even to tell what time it was and to decide how long he needed to keep this fellow talking before Lord Vorkosigan showed up. If Lord Vorkosigan showed up. Fuchou thought the little auditor was smart and committed to justice over nepotism. Fuchou hoped he was right.

“What should I expect from a planet that accepts homosexuality. You galactics have no morals,” Dzersky complained.

Fuchou considered his options. He could engage the man in a discussion of his wife's affair, something the man was obviously aching to talk about. He could inquire about the hows of what had been done to Aimin and ask after the fate of Dr Canaba. He supposed he could ask Dzersky about what he thought his future held.

“You have nothing to say now? You've trampled across Vorbarra Sultana saying what you wanted to who you wanted because you thought you were immune. But the second someone knocks you down you're silent. Typical,” Dzersky spat. 

The man was winding himself up for the kill. He had not killed Aimin in a crime of passion. He'd taken the time and effort to make it look like an accident. He'd killed off the presumed maker of his virus and he now seemed to be preparing to kill Fuchou. Fuchou wondered if it would end there or if Dzersky was planning on killing his wife before she tried to leave him. He was an angry, frightened man. But he was not irrational or disorganized. He would have been caught already if he was.

“Do you feel that you get trampled upon often,” Fuchou asked.

Dzersky scowled down at Fuchou, “is this part of your prissy psychiatry practice? I don't need talk therapy like some woman. I handle my problems.”

Handled them by murdering a woman, Fuchou thought coolly.

“So you feel that you couldn't talk to anyone,” Fuchou asked.

Dzersky scowled, “I didn't say I couldn't I said I didn't.”

“Come now, you know I had a divorce too.”

“Yes, because you couldn't hold on,” Dzersky sneered dismissively.

Fuchou let the anger of that phrase slide over him.

“I think, after going through my own divorce, I'd agree that it was hard to talk to people. I've killed people in the name of duty. I'm sure you have as well. People expect us to be tough. But where does that leave you when you're going through a divorce? Who can you talk to if you're scared and you don't how to handle problem?”

People do dumb things when they're afraid.

Dzersky shook his head, “I didn't need to talk to anyone.”

“I didn't say you had to talk to anyone, but who could you have talked to? Who could you have sat down with and said 'I'm having marriage problems and I don't know what to do',” Fuchou asked.

“No one. Because I know how to handle my marriage. I just needed to get my wife away from the communist bitch. Chan no doubt was just trying to use her to get to me,” Dzersky declared.

 

“Except Aimin is dead now and your wife still wants a divorce,” Fuchou pointed out.

He should not have done that because Dzersky removed the plasma arc from his belt.

“I think the problem is that there are few negative emotions a man is allowed to express here. The most socially acceptable is anger. So you did what you thought you had to in order to express your displeasure,” Fuchou hurried on.

“I wasn't displeased. I was displeased when Artemy didn't make the soccer team. I was displeased when Vlad lost a strat-o competition and didn't even rank. I am morally outraged that the Zhongqi slut would come in to my family and ruin everything I had worked so hard to build,” Dzersky bellowed.

Fuchou smelled the acrid odor of a parent who displayed conditional love to his offspring. On top of that Dzersky struck him as a control freak. Not uncommon in the intelligence field, especially if his main function was to protect the emperor. Dzersky was undoubtedly good at his job. But that didn't make him a good parent or husband.

“So you've killed Aimin, presumbaly with a virus you ordered Canaba to create. You then killed Canaba so it couldn't be traced back to you. But how will you wrap up those ends? Whose your fall guy,” Fuchou asked.

Dzersky seemed more agitated. He obviously hadn't thought this through.

“Originally the delegate's death was to be ruled an accident. I had already given Canaba a slow acting poison, Typanin which would simulate a heart attack in roughly a weeks time. But then you had the brilliant suggestion to call him back to do blood testing and suddenly I couldn't wait that long. I – is this being recorded? I never did understand your damn eyes,” Dzersky said suddenly stopping his talk.

“Sadly not. I just use them to see,” Fuchou stated.

Dzersky considered Fuchou. Fuchou wondered if he and the ensign would try to cut out his eyes.

“If you cut out my eyes how will you argue that you shot me in self defense,” Fuchou asked.

“How come I haven't shot you right now,' Dzersky demanded.

“I imagine it's because you don't really want to shoot the boy whose waiting obediently outside for you,” Fuchou said. Fuchou wondered, not for the first time, if the kid beyond those doors could hear them. Was he listening in or had he attempted to be stupidly virtuous by placing himself out of hearing range of the conversation so as not to overhear anything he ought not?

“I'm not going to kill him,” Dzersky said too quickly.

“Sure you will, it's how you'll prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were attacked first and that you only acted in self defense. Of course the problem is that you know he's innocent. With Aimin she was guilty of adultery and destroying your supposedly picture perfect home life. Canaba, from what I've heard of him, was scum. As for me, well you know I'm a killer and a communist. I'm an enemy of the emperor and I'm dangerous because I know the link between Aimin and Galina. But I bet that bright eyed child out there hasn't discharged his weapon at anything more dangerous than a target. You'd be butchering a lamb,” Fuchou insisted.

“He chose to put his life to good use in the service of the empire,” Dzersky reasoned.

“But you're not serving the empire right now,” Fuchou noted.

“I'm protecting the family. I'm protecting the sanctity of marriage and the importance of having a father and a mother for every child,” Dzersky declared angrily.

“That's nice. Will you put that on his grave stone. Does that boy have parents? Will you look them in the eye and tell them that bullshit story at his funeral,” Fuchou asked.

Dzersky seemed prepared to yell back when he suddenly controlled himself.

“I'm just not sure what I'm going to tell your brat at your funeral,” Dzersky smirked.

“Actually I think she'd like it if she thought I died trying to fight an imperialist barehanded,” Fuchou admitted. 

Dzersky seemed disapointed by this nonchalant reply. Likely he was hopping Fuchou would beg or plead either to live or to make sure Dzersky didn't try to hurt her.

“Why did you let you wife talk you into having a girl first,” Dzersky asked. It was another dig, Fuchou supposed, an implication that he was so weak he would let a woman decide matters in the family. 

“I wanted a girl,” Fuchou answered honestly.

Dzersky looked skeptical, “Sure, right after your wife told you what you wanted.”

Fuchou sighed. Just keep him talking. At least his ears had stopped ringing and the stunner induced shakes were decreasing. He'd be better soon.

“Have you ever seen a lightflyer crash? Or even a bad ground car pile up? Most people peek, I can't help but stare. I like violence and death. I like the smell of blood and the feeling of jamming a knife into someone's chest. My first kill wasn't under the auspices of ShaDui. It happened while I was rotating on the neurology floor. I had a patient of mine, an elderly man who would come in from time to time. He kept getting sicker and sicker until he eventually died. Turned out the adult son in law that he'd been living with had a bad case of Munchausen by proxy. Now the sentencing for this on Beta Colony is pretty lenient. The guy got sent for counseling. Which is ridiculous. What kind of planet decides that a man who murders his father in law should get simple talking therapy,” Fuchou demanded.

“So you killed him,” Dzersky asked.

“It wasn't easy. There are security cams all over Beta colony, both privately owned to protect personal property and government owned to protect life. But I caught up to him eventually.”

“So you've killed before,” Dzersky said with a shrug.

“That's not unusual in our line of work. But most people are polite enough to say they don't enjoy it. I like killing. I'm a state sanctioned serial killer with only the hint of a conscience,” Fuchou admitted.

“So what does this have to do with having a daughter,” Dzersky asked.

“I have a hint of conscience but this doesn't effect me selfish desire to want me genes to be passed on. I trust girls more to adapt to society more effectively than a boy. I have nightmares about a potential son turning into a murderer that I'd have to hunt down because he couldn't or wouldn't control himself,” Fuchou admitted.

Dzersky considered his story with something closer to boredom than fascination, “you know Tsetung, I'm sure you're talk frightens the children who stay over for your slumber parties. But I've met scarier men than you. So far I've only seen you talk to people.”

 

Fuchou shrugged, “sometimes people just need to discuss the problem. Violence isn't always the answer.”

Dzersky snorted, “tell me how words can stop plasma arc fire.”

The door behind him opened.

“Major Dzersky, you're under arrest for murder,” Miles Vorkosigan declared. Several ImpSec men were at his back, pointing plasma arcs at Major Dzersky.

Dzersky gaped, plasma arc still in hand. He seemed ready to raise it up and force his brother officers to shoot him when Fuchou tackled him from behind.

Fuchou broke several fingers as he pulled the plasma arc out of Dzersky's hands.

“It's about time you got here,” Fuchou stated.

“Well if you hadn't decided you were going to solve this murder on your own you wouldn't have been in this situation,” the little auditor declared peevishly. 

A man in the uniform Imperial Operations gave the little auditor an irritated look and muttered something in Russian. Lord Miles chose to ignore whatever the out of place man said.

“I was defending my family,” Dzersky declared as he was hauled away.

“You know we should probably have more psychological tests for the boys at ImpSec, between Haroche and this whackadoo it seems like everyone is trying to murder with free license over there,” the Imperial Operations officer noted.

“Shut it, Ivan,” Miles said.

Fuchou offered no comment. He was done talking for the day.


	15. Chapter 15

“So why my butterbugs,” Mark asked irritably. The two brothers were standing off to the side of a good riddance banquet for the Grand Inquisitor Fuchou Tsetung. The case regarding Delegate Aimin Chan's death had been closed and officially labeled an accident to the public, though the principal parties knew otherwise. 

“Partly for practical reasons. Dzersky reasonably concluded that the other districts would offer traditional dishes. He knew about the bug butter early on through ImpSec connections and reasoned that if any food would be viewed with suspicion from the outset it would be food not native to Earth or Barrayar. He was counting on xenophobia as a means of casting quick suspicion on the bug butter and hoped to get people to believe it was dangerous early to wrap up the case quickly,” Miles explained.

“and the less practical reasons,” Mark inquired.

Miles grimaced, “Dzersky 'figured the Vorkosigans would get away with anything anyway' so he thought he wasn't doing any harm.”

“Charming. But whose going to reimburse me for all this bug butter now that we don't know who is or isn't allergic to it because of that stupid virus,” Mark demanded.

“I talked to Gregor about that. He did say the Imperium would off set some of the cost of your projects and pay for damages due to an ImpSec agent being the cause of the problem. Though you may still try to sell it to offworlders who haven't been exposed,” Miles suggested to Mark as they glanced across the ballroom to look at the Grand Inquisitor who was inexplicably surrounded by young mothers. 

Someone had mentioned that the man was a pediatric psychiatrist and a number of anxious mothers were now bombarding him with questions. In spite of this, Fuchou seemed to be taking this in stride.

“I suggested it to him,” Mark said glumly.

“He shot you down,” Miles asked.

“He asked me if the bugs themselves were edible. Apparently eating bugs is common on Zhongqi. That or he was just messing with us. Either way, Enrique nearly had a heart attack and has refused to sell the man any of the bugs,” Mark said. 

They paused in their conversation to watch the girl walking with the emperor.

“I hope that when the communist revolution comes to Barrayar the proletariat doesn't shoot you Emperor Gregor. You seem really nice, I hope you can be re-educated,” Xiafeng said sincerely as Gregor attempted for the third time to return her to her amused father. 

Gregor managed a smile at this dubious compliment but seemed to have difficulties with coming up with a suitable response. 

“Charming family,” Mark commented from their vantage point.

“I think everyone will breath a sigh of relief when the Inquisitor leaves,” Miles noted.

“Don't tell me you find him overwhelming,” Mark teased.

“It's the little girl I'm afraid of,” Miles admitted.

Mark snorted at this, but decided not to bait his brother any further, he went off to go tell Kareen the news that they might be able to get back to Beta Colony together after all.


End file.
